


True Nature (Charlastor)

by Peacetoworld



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angst, Antichrist, Anticipation, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Dark Magic, Dark Past, Dark Romance, Deal with a Devil, Death, Demons, Denial of Feelings, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fandom Blind, Fandom Blind Friendly, Fluff and Angst, Good versus Evil, Hell, Manipulation, Paranormal Romance, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Redemption, Romance, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, Tension, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peacetoworld/pseuds/Peacetoworld
Summary: It's a cat-and-mouse game between the ever-optimistic Princess of Hell and the newest overlord, the infamous Radio Demon Alastor, as they each try to influence the other to join their side.Will Charlie coax the small hint of good from Alastor into something more, proving unconditionally thatalldemons have good inside them?Or will Alastor, realizing the spark of devilry within her and feeding kindling to the flames, force her fate as the antichrist, spawn of the original sinners Lucifer and Lilith?Or... will something else entirely develop between the two as they get to know one another more intimately? Can a friendship flourish between the two very different beings? A loving relationship perhaps?Stay tuned...
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne, Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel) & Everyone, Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 73
Kudos: 200





	1. Prologue: First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by One Hell of a Team, an original song inspired by "Hazbin Hotel" by AmaLee and Divide Music. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qV6uCI8Eb8&list=PLUpSqcQaNBdXEptuX53md_2d1Ilm5rajk&index=4 
> 
> I was inspired to write my own fanfiction that hones in on the dynamics between Charlie and Alastor after reading (and loving) Dearest Little Pet, another Charlastor fanfic that you should check out if you haven’t already! (warning: it's smut)
> 
> \---  
> Writing style is a bit heavy at first, then transitions into more dialogue-focused passages. Had to set the scene up properly for those not in the fandom. Please do give it a chance. I'd say chapter four is a good example if the beginning writing style irks you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is largely a recap of the pilot for those not familiar with Hazbin Hotel. Feel free to skim or skip if you're familiar with Hazbin Hotel already~

With the full moon hanging low in the sky above him, black as tar and crudely carved with a satanic five-pointed star, Alastor decided that it was a fine evening in Hell for a stroll down Main Street. His legs took long, elegant strides in front, his gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back. Tonight, he was playing his favorite role as the ever-composed gentleman.

He hummed along to the soft tune playing from his ever-present radio. His menacing seven-foot frame towered over nearby, lesser demons.

Those who had been shrewd enough to sense his impending presence quickly scattered to whatever nearby hiding spot they could find. Some slipped into the empty crates haphazardly scattered across the street, stealthily securing the lid atop them before receding from view.

Others skirted into narrow alleyways that they hoped would not lead to dead ends and demise. A few unlucky souls, gambling that whatever fate lay beyond the unwelcoming, boarded-up doors of the buildings dotting the street was better than idling here, vanished inside them.

Those who had been inattentive to the tense atmosphere and retreating figures realized their mistake in horror. Their mouths were agape, eyeballs transfixed on the towering figure that loomed within a knife’s reach. They stood still as statues, held their breaths for fear of drawing his attention, and waited for him to pass.

Terrified whispers echoed on all sides around him. “It’s him!” Audible gasps of shock and terror rang out. “The Radio Demon!”

Placing both feet firmly on the ground, Alastor paused, closing his eyes. His lungs expanded with slow deliberation, his nostrils flaring as he took in a long, drawn-out taste of the air around him. He sighed pleasantly, sampling the sweet terror of the lowly sinners around him. His mouth curled upwards into a tighter grin.

The aroma was mouthwatering. Shivers of unadulterated pleasure prickled up his spine. From within himself, he felt a disobedient rattling on the chains which tightly bound his inner demon. _Kill them. Kill them all. Suck their blood dry down to the marrow and feast on their tender flesh._

Agitated, Alastor focused his attention on the intruding sensation. He looked inwards to face his inner demon with an air of stiff collectedness. With well-practiced expertise, he tightened the chains on the shadowy figure to the point of strangling. A raw, guttural growl burst out from the restricted shadow.

Alastor tsked at it wryly. “Now, now. It would be unbecoming of a man as esteemed as myself to kill his prey so crudely and openly on the streets. Play nicely,” he commanded. “We’ll feed later.”

The shadow said nothing in response, but Alastor felt its opposing hold on the chains slacken. Its pointed gaze expressed its outrage at being restrained, but it yielded itself in absolute subservience to its keeper.

Alastor snickered. Eyes still shut, he attempted returning his attention to the delectable aroma of fear his mere presence had created. But another scent invaded his nostrils. Snideness. Guffaw. Swagger.

His eyes snapped open, scanning the area inquisitively for the source. A block away, a dozen demons of various stature stood together in a small crowd, their attention focused on the televisions stacked behind a display case.

Alastor took quick strides towards the crowd. His red-and-black, deer-like ears twitched forward, listening with contemptuous curiosity.

“Aha ha! Ha! Get a load of this girl! How absolutely absurd.” One demon called out from the crowd.

“That’s the princess of Hell? The antichrist those religious numbskulls thought would bring the end of the world? Spawn of Lucifer?” a lanky demon scoffed.

“Where does that pathetic bitch think she is? This is God-damned Hell. The only people here are the absolute scum of the earth, murderers and criminals, you name it. But we ain’t no jolly do-gooders.”

“Ha! Can I get whatever drug her high highness is on?”

“W-wait. Can we? Can we still ascend to Heaven?” a small voice asked timidly.

The heads on the other demons reeled, sadistic scowls etched on their faces, to face the frail-looking goat-demon. “Ha! No, you pathetic shit-for-brains,” one demon answered. Another punched him between his broken horns. “Get out of my sight, fucking dimwit.” The distressed goat-demon staggered, then zipped down the street before another of the demons could assault him. Focused solely on getting as far away from here as possible, he sprinted past the tall, crimson suited figure that was strutting ever closer to the television screens.

Without modifying his firm pace nor turning his head away from the display case, Alastor peered sideways at the blue goat-demon through narrow slits.

Bored that their prey had escaped, the other demons turned their attention back to the screens and the small blonde demoness portrayed on them. They began hurling insults again at her expense, jeering wildly. They didn’t notice the new presence among them, standing erectly a few mere feet behind them. Alastor’s eyes found the large television in the center as he scrutinized the one who had made these lowly beings turn from sniveling cowards to jesting hooligans.

“Look,” the pixelated demoness pleaded with soft, round eyes to her audience. Her light blonde hair draped gracefully past her shoulders. A permanent rosy blush dotted each of her cheeks. Other than her slightly fanged canines, her resemblance was near-human and without a trace of monstrous qualities.

Tied to the base of her neck was a rounded, four-pointed black bow tie, much like his own, Alastor thought to his amusement. She wore a simple white button-down embellished with black buttons. The form-fitting shirt was overlaid by a rosy red coat which matched the complexion of her cheeks. Combined, her dapper attire and natural beauty was a sight to behold.

“Every single one of you has something good deep down inside. I know you do!” Her honeyed voice spoke out with such fierce urgency. She seemed to think that if she believed hard enough and spoke with all the conviction of her heart, she could transform these lowly sinners into something more than the wretched souls they most definitely were.

Her eyes suddenly widened, and a small smile crept up her face. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you,” she crooned. Her eyes blinked in a smug expression as she rhythmically snapped her fingers.

Alastor watched, his eyes narrowing expectantly and glued to the screen as it faded to black. Suddenly, the demoness was perched gracefully atop a grand piano. Much like how her eyes had magnified a moment ago, it was now his turn to grow his eyes wide in surprise. His head tilted to the side with a sharp crack in his neck, and the razor-pointed teeth that made up his smile gleamed with excitement.

Momentarily unconstrained, his inner demon rose from inside him, taking the form of a shadow against the red wall behind. Atop its incorporeal head, the shade exhibited proud, deadly antlers. It had empty pits for eyes and its mouth was contorted in a wide, open smile with sharp teeth jutting out. Both Alastor and his inner demon felt deeply amused by this girl and awaited her performance with bated breath.

She began to sing. Her voice was angelic and her tone hopeful as she sang of her wishful, nonsensical dreams to demons all across Hell.

\---

When the usually-smiling blonde demoness had finally arrived back at the hotel, she deflated with a deep sigh. Her shoulders slumped inwards and her head hung forward despondently, eyes cast down to the rotting wooden floorboards beneath her. Playbacks of the horrifying series of events that had happened over the past hour intruded her mind. Charlie’s head pounded.

Her interview with Katie Killjoy could not have gone worse. How could any of her subjects believe in her and her hotel after seeing their supposedly-clean, reportedly-turning-a-new-leaf patron Angel Dust make breaking news for callous slaughter and destruction in the ongoing turf war.

Charlie didn’t entirely blame Angel. She knew that the road towards betterment was an exhausting climb and could seem largely unappealing when compared to the many downtrodden paths of temptation, but she did feel disappointed and deeply hurt by his actions.

During the car ride home, Vaggie had been absolutely furious with Angel. She’d torn into him with a clamor of vicious insults and outcries. Angel had deflected her accusations in a bored and avoidant manner, distracting himself with the window lever until it had been swiftly harpooned by Vaggie’s spear. Still unwilling to have this talk with her, Angel had then distracted himself with whatever else he could find in the small confines of the car.

Sitting between them, her two only friends in Hell, Charlie had felt trapped and uncomfortable. Her eyes had gazed longingly at the nearby door handle. She’d wanted to pull it and tumble out of the car, unconscious as her body rolled destructively down the road, into the gutter, and plummeted into the deep recesses of some hellish pit.

But Charlie had refused to show her friends the weakness that was eating her from within. So instead, she’d fixed a fake bravado over her face and forced peace between them. First, she’d placated her girlfriend Vaggie with empty assurances and soft murmurs. When Vaggie had calmed down, Charlie had then tried to explain the hurt both women felt over Angel’s actions in a non-accusatory tone that would hopefully get past his defenses and cause him to reflect over the consequences his actions had brought.

The car had then pulled in front of the hotel, and Charlie had felt greatly relieved. She’d snuck away to be alone, her mask shattering and the false cheer draining from her face.

Charlie hugged her knees tightly. ‘I wish Vaggie had been the one to soothe me instead,’ she thought. Her hands went to her pants pocket and subconsciously pulled out her phone. Craving to be comforted, she called her mom.

Charlie loved her parents deeply and knew that they reciprocated her love, but there was always a fire to put out, quite literally, in Hell. Her father and mother ruled over the realm undisputedly and without break, and they committed most waking hours of their immortal lives to maintaining it in its current form.

 _Riiing. Riiiiing_. The buzzing from her phone broke the peace of the still air around her. _Errrrrr_.

Predictably, they did not answer.

A single tear streamed down her rosy cheek. There was no one to talk to. No one to confide in and be comforted by. More tears leaked from her eyes, following the wet trail down her face.

Sniffling, she swiped at her puffy cheeks with the soft sleeves of her white shirt, rolled loosely at her elbows. Not one to give up and really needing someone’s reassurance, she tried for one more listening ear.

“H-hey, uh -- Grandfather,” she called out, unsure. Her voice cracked. “Dad hasn’t really told me much about you, but uhh --” her voice faltered. Her lips stiffened into thin lines, trying to think of the words to say.

“Look, you think all human souls have good in them, right? And you love them? I do too. I think I might have gotten that from you.”

She waited for a reply. The air rustled softly around her, sweeping her hair behind her shoulders.

“I’m trying to help my people. But they’re so lost and confused. They can’t hear their souls crying out in pain, in suffering. Please, please help me help them. I want to help them.” Her voice echoed against the walls of the empty room.

She sat there a moment and waited, alone. Her back pressed uncomfortably against the hard crevices of the hotel’s front door. She was attentive of every second that ticked by. _Tick. Tick. Tick-tock. Tick-tock_. The monotone ticking seemed to grow louder in her ears. Her eyes glanced at the archaic grandfather clock collecting dust in the corner. _Tick-tock. Tick-tock_. The sound was relentless and oddly mesmerizing.

 _Thud. Thud - Thud - Thud_. A new sound pounded at her ears. It arose from the door behind her, snapping her out of her daze.

Charlie stood and peered at the door in interest. Squinting through the stained glass pieces that adorned the tall double doors, she saw a tall figure, his arm outstretched and knocking on the door.

Her pulse quickened. A demon at the door. A new demon at the door of her hotel! She felt elated. Perhaps the interview hadn’t been a complete failure.

She collected herself in an attempt to not scare her new patron. Her hand reached towards the handle, and she pushed downwards.

The door creaked in protest before succumbing to her exertions and opening.

Behind the door stood a tall demon with eerily perfect posture. A crimson, thinly lined coat draped his dapper figure elegantly, flaring out at the waist into long, slightly slashed twin coattails. 

Charlie’s eyes wandered slowly up his body, taking in every strange detail of him. He wore slick black dress shoes that came to a curved, pointed tip at his toes. The cuffs of his well-ironed slacks were bright red, the shade of delectably-sweet candy apples. His pants continued up his legs in a dark, unwavering merlot. Hints of a dress shirt the same shade as his pant cuffs peaked out from under his buttoned coat. A thin black cross was stitched carefully across the shirt where it met his chest. The top of the cross was hidden beneath a grandiose black bowtie. 

Her eyes continued up his figure. His neck was tightly encased by his shirt’s high collar. A thin smile was etched on his pale gray face. She paused to admire the wine-stained eyelids that covered his eyes.

A jolt of static flashed from the elegant staff he held. As if it had been a signal, his eyelids retreated quickly at the sound, leaving bright red glowing eyes in their place. His mouth opened widely, baring his sharp yellow fangs.

“Hel-”

Charlie slammed the door in his face. A cacophony of alarm bells rang in her head. _Oh shit_. 

Disbelieving that the guest that now stood before her hotel could possibly be _him_ , she opened the door again to get a second look.

“-lo.”

 _Slam_. The door shut loudly in his face again. _Nope, it’s definitely him_. Her eyes expanded widely, threatening to take over the entirety of her face.

“H-hey Vaggie?” she called out loudly to her girlfriend in the other room.

A grumpy voice replied. “What?”

Still baffled, Charlie pieced her words together and tried to explain the situation. “The Radio Demon is at the door.” Sweat dripped down her face. She pointed her fingers awkwardly at the door, feigning finger-guns.

Behind Vaggie, Angel sat comfortably on the monster-sofa, fully engaged with the popsicle in his mouth. His lips formed a taut circle around the frozen treat. His eyes were closed in pleasure as he thought erotically of other things he wanted to fill his tight mouth.

Hearing the shock dripping from their voices and not wanting to be left out, Angel stirred from his fantasies to glance at the two women, a question forming on his lips. “Uh who?” he questioned lazily, his thin eyebrow slightly raised.

Too panicked to answer his question, Charlie’s petite hands smacked her rosy cheeks before grabbing and pulling them downward. “What should I do?” she wailed.

Quickly saying the first thought that came to mind, Vaggie warned in an angry growl, “Well, don’t let him in!”

That single utterance summoned Charlie from her current panicked state. ‘ _Don’t let him in?_ ’ she repeated to herself, confused. Why did it matter if the one at her door was the menacing Radio Demon? Charlie had told her people that inside every demon was a rainbow, and the Radio Demon was no exception.

Her confidence returning, Charlie turned and faced the door again. She swung it open powerfully.

A smug look painted Alastor’s face.

“May I speak now?” he goaded.

Charlie still felt worried, but she shoved those feelings down and bottled them within her. She would not compromise on her principles. Arms folded tightly around her elbows, she straightened her posture and stood as tall as she could.

“You may,” was her strained-eloquent response.

His black-gloved hand darted towards her and she flinched back, stunned. He kept his hand outstretched for a moment, waiting for her to shake it with her own, before growing impatient. He reached out further and clasped her wrist tightly. The contact shocked him as though he had grabbed a live wire.

“Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart!” The shock continued up his arm. Sharp tingles of pain and delight reverberated throughout his body. His voice quivered and temporarily lost its constant radio-static edge. “Quite a pleasure!”

He released her arm and tried to regain his composure, stepping deeper into the hotel behind her. The radio static returned to his vocals.

“Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on the picture show, and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance!” A faint echo of pre-recorded clapping and audience cheer accompanied his enthusiastic tone. “Why, I haven’t been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929!” His face and gestures were quick-changing and well-animated. The way he spoke and moved suggested that he was running on an endless supply of caffeine.

He spun his head back to look at her and drunk in her confused, cautious expression. To see the effect his eccentric persona had on her made him feel strangely euphoric after their shared electric touch.

A sharp spear suddenly pointing at his neck in warning interrupted his inner thoughts. His tall ears flared up in surprise, then anger, before he finally settled into a smug, controlled expression.

Looking up at the intruder with fierce, protective eyes stood a ferocious woman with long silver hair trailing down to her thighs. She must have thought herself scary, but to Alastor she resembled a barking chihuahua.

Alastor loathed dogs.

“Stop. Right. There. _¡Cabrón hijo de perra!_ ” Vaggie snarled. “I know your game, and I’m not going to let you hurt _anyone_ here you pompous, cheesy, talk show SHIT LORD!”

His inner demon pleaded with him for liberation to put the deplorable dog in her place. While Alastor agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment, he denied its wish.

If this plan was going to work, Alastor needed her alive for now. Still, he didn’t like the unrefined tone in which she had spoken to him. His eyes narrowed into thin slits and the previously flickering radio static rose to a thunderous, constant presence from his radio staff.

He deflected her insults and spear with ease. “Dear,” he cooed mockingly, “if I wanted to hurt anyone here --” he beckoned to his inner demon, granting it temporary dwelling within his sharp features. It came forth eagerly.

If he couldn’t kill her yet, he would at least pressure her to remember her manners. Compelled under his forceful influence, the room’s colors bled to red and his eyes shapeshifted to radio dials. He looked down at her with murderous intent. “ _ **\-- I would have done so already.**_ ”

Satisfied with her now timid expression, Alastor forced his demon to retreat. He looked at her and the blonde demoness behind her with a playful, suddenly light expression in his eyes. “No, I’m here because I want to help!” he deluded in a friendly tone, bowing slightly from the hip.

Vaggie and Charlie shared a glance of distrust and confusion.

“Say what now?” Charlie asked, puzzled.

Her wide eyes excited him. He jumped at her, his teeth dangerously close to nipping at her cheek. “Help!” He reiterated. The tall, crimson demon chuckled to himself, amused. “Hello?” he addressed his radio staff, “Is this thing on? Testing, testing...”

The microphone engraving on his staff glowed scarlet. Within it, an eye blinked open at him. “Well, I heard you loud and clear!” it responded cheerily to its master.

Still confused, Charlie enquired further. “Umm, you want to... help? With?”

Deciding to have fun with his performance, he faded his presence in front of the two women before reappearing behind and between them. With a strong hand on each, he pulled their small bodies towards him. “This ridiculous thing you’re trying to do! This hotel!” he shot back. He pointed at himself in an exaggerated gesture, his radio ding-dinging similar to when a contestant on a talk show got a correct answer. “ _I_ want to help you run it.”

Unconvinced but willing to give him a chance, Charlie asked for further clarification. “But-" she drew out the syllable, narrowing her eyes, "why?” 

She knew how most denizens of Hell saw her, a naive, foolish girl unwilling to see reality, but she was not that girl. Her dreams may be hopeful, but she was _not_ a fool, and she refused to be treated as such by anyone.

Alastor appreciated her prudence. He decided to give her a half-truth as his response. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer, absolute boredom!” His voice was dripping in over-the-top theatrics. 

He led their conversation as though they were in an intimate waltz, ensuring he was always one step ahead of her while gracefully twirling her around him. He did not relent until she had agreed to his terms, a room and her acceptance of his presence at the hotel. He did not want much from her at this early stage, and it amused him to see her staunchly refuse any binding deals.

In time, he would have what he came for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> I have a lot of scenes in my head, so stay tuned for more.


	2. That First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie and Alastor reflect over their first encounters with one another.
> 
> A late, impromptu meeting occurs.

The sky darkened to a deep garnet shade as night fell over Pentagram City. Wispy clouds weaved nebulous pathways across the collection of twinkling, star-like objects in the sky.

The ever-bustling city settled in for the first night since Extermination Day. Clamorous shouts gave way to hushed whispers. Enticing neon lights lit the city’s most prominent businesses, luring patrons like moths drawn to a flame. 

Many a demon trickled into Hell’s favorite casual bar, Klub Kaiju. Some sat at tall bar stools while others poised angularly over pool tables. The clientele passed the night away in a hearty, drunken stupor.

Other sinners, craving something a little more debaucherous that night, flocked to the hypnotic fuschia entryway of Club Hell 666. Inside, they ogled shamelessly at the half-naked babes parading the stage in high heels and latex suits. 

A handful of absent-minded lecherers came dangerously near the stage, slipping under the velvet ropes and hoping to get lucky. But instead, they were met with brutal punches and kicks by the club’s beefy bouncers before being picked up and painfully tossed back out to the street in a chorus of hoots and jeers.

On the other side of the city, a warm yellow glow diffused from the second-story windows of the Happy Hotel. The motley hotel crew sat together around a large wooden table in the communal kitchen, familiarizing themselves with one another over a delicious heaping of homely jambalaya cooked by no other than the unpredictable Radio Demon.

Angel moaned, a forkful of the delicious food entering his mouth. “Mmm, this is the second best thing to enter my mouth this week. Who woulda known Smiles here could cook!”

“While I appreciate the compliment, it’d certainly be more well-received from a mouth _not_ spilling my esteemed home cooking all over the table,” Alastor retorted, a threatening look in his eyes.

The pink-speckled white spiderling shrugged mischievously. “It’s just so hard keeping everything in this tight little mouth, Al baby.” His long eyelashes fluttered playfully.

Unaware of the situation happening on the other end of the table, Charlie gushed excitedly at her two new guests. “I’m so happy you’re both here! I’ll have each of your rooms ready by tomorrow. Welcome to the Happy Hotel!”

The catlike gargoyle-demon grimaced in response. ‘ _Sitting next to this painfully optimistic loonie was a mistake_ ,’ he thought. Husk gulped down the cheap bottle of booze beside him, no longer aware of the way it burned his throat after a near century of hard drinking. 

When he had finished, he kept the bottle raised and pretended to keep downing it while thinking of more subtle ways to avoid conversation.

The small cyclops girl sitting beside him suddenly pushed Husker out from the table with surprising force. He landed on the back of his chair with a hard thud, feet dangling in the air and his face glancing up at the ceiling. 

Husker grunted in pain. “What the hell’d ya do that for, Niffty?”

Niffty ignored him and grabbed Charlie by her hand, shaking it eagerly. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, too, Charlie! We’re going to have soo much fun together. We can paint our nails together, braid our hair together, kill our exes together, tee hehe hee sooo much fun!” 

Fumbling over what to say in response to Niffty’s spontaneous suggestion of murder, Charlie smiled back cautiously. “Yeah! I would like - er - most of those things.” The words trailed from her lips, stumbling and unsure at first, but Charlie eventually found herself. 

“That does sound really nice, Niffty! And I cannot thank you enough for what you have already done for the hotel! I haven’t seen the hotel this clean in centuries. It’s like I’m revisiting its former glory days thanks to all of your diligent work!” 

It was now Niffty who found her own arm being violently shaken up and down in a vigorous handshake. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Charlie praised.

Niffty blushed from the genuine compliment. She pawed the air with her petite, spindly hand bashfully. “Oh, that’s nothing! Just wait ‘till you see me really fired up! I’ll have this whole place so spick and span, it’ll be like a carefully covered up crime scene!” Niffty giggled at her own joke. “But real question, when are we getting more guests? The only man here, other than my coworker Husky and my off-the-table employer, is _him_ ,” she pointed at Angel, unimpressed, “and his feminine charms just don’t do it for me.” 

At mention of the spider-demon, Charlie and Niffty both glanced down to the other end of the table, where Angel and Alastor sat. 

“Mmm! Mm! Hm? Mmmmm!” Angry and confused mufflings poured from Angel’s sealed mouth. Charlie’s mouth gaped open in bewilderment while Niffty snorted gleefully, taking delight from her master’s shenanigans.

Alastor grinned cruelly at his victim. “What’s the matter, my lewd fellow? Demon got your tongue?”

Trying to ignore the chaotic scene before her, Charlie looked back at Niffy and rested her chin against the back of her palm, thinking. “Wellll,” she began, “I was hoping that we would gain more patrons when the TV ad aired, but it didn’t go so well.” Her hand fell back down to the fork on her plate, and she played with her food downheartedly.

“I guess I’ll have to think of a new way to get more patrons.” Forcing an air of confidence, Charlie continued, “If nothing else, there’s always the old-fashioned way, going door-to-door and spreading the word face-to-face. That’s how we got Angel, and look how that turned out!”

They both turned back to Angel and Alastor, but in the chair where Alastor had sat just moments ago, there was now only the fading outline of a shadow. Angel was still violently muttering profanities with as much ruckus as his pursed lips could muster.

In a puff of smoke, Alastor materialized behind the two ladies’ chairs. His gloved claws went to rest firmly on each of their shoulders. 

Charlie gasped, “Ah! A-Alastor -”

With a swift, refined gesture, Alastor hushed her. “My dear, there are much more expedient ways to spread your good gospel to the masses.”

Charlie hummed, leafing through possibilities in her head. She shot up from her chair. “We could post fliers!”

Her authentic, cheery answer deeply amused Alastor, and he let out a low chuckle. With his voice matching the tone of her enthusiasm, he declared, “What a delightful suggestion!” His voice dropped suggestively. “But I think I know of something even more effective, _ma chérie_ ”

Charlie could hardly contain her excitement. “What?!” she asked, overjoyed.

Her emotions played so beautifully on her face, so genuine and pure-hearted. Alastor closed his eyes for a moment to savour it. He wanted to see her full range of performance, to witness her face morph and contort and present the full spectrum of human emotion. He licked his dry lips, suddenly parched.

He took a sip from his drink before continuing. Deciding to give a rousing performance, he let out a hearty chortle. “My, what is this bizarre microphone doing attached to my staff? Is it simply a charming toy? A mere decoration?”

The staff glowed in response. A voice emerged from it, responding to its summons, “No sirree, sir! I’m a proper, all-in-one microphone, playback recording machine, and radio station capable of transmitting a thing or two across Hell’s airwaves!”

He looked over at Charlie, smug. Trying not to let his amusement show, he faked a pout. “Do you doubt my capabilities as the renowned Radio Demon, Charlie?” His face twisted, grinning sinisterly. “Or do you not trust me?”

Charlie blinked, flustered. “No? What? Umm -” she looked around the room for help. Her eyes briefly met with Vaggie’s, who was sitting alone and refused to touch the food. Vaggie stared back at her, daring her not to do nor accept anything from this malevolent, demonic overlord.

Charlie fumbled. “No, no, no, it’s none of those things. It just never crossed my mind, Al. The Radio Demon, broadcasting on the radio, ha ha,” she laughed emptily, feeling stupid. His idea certainly interested her, and it seemed sound, but she didn’t want to agree to it immediately without thinking it through. She’d already rushed into one bad interview, after all.

Reading the unvoiced concerns on her expressive facial features, Alastor assured her. “Don’t worry, my dear, it’ll be nothing like that wretched display on the picture show.” He grimaced. “Modern day television, so boorish and uncivilized. I’m afraid I’ll never understand the appeal.”

“No,” he continued, “I’ll give you a proper reception! When they hear your mesmeric vocals through the radio, why, they’ll come pounding at the door, unable to resist you, darling. We won’t have enough rooms in this fine establishment to house all those wretched sinners! Ha haha!” He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye, devoted to his act, feigning as though he had laughed so hard he cried.

Charlie tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then cleared her throat. “While that does sound enticing, don’t you only do that to, uh, broadcast your carnage and all that?” she asked. 

Now that got a real response from him. He bent at the waist, supporting himself with his hands on his knees as he let out a bellowing, contagious laughter.

He straightened himself. “All in the past, dear Charlotte. I’m a simple man with a one-track mind, and right now, I am focused on seeing this hotel flourish. With as meticulous a mind as mine, I only ever have the capacity for one goal at a time,” his voice deepened in warning, his friendly performance faltering, “and I don’t stop in my pursuit until it’s _mine_ ,” His eyes narrowed into angular, menacing slits, glowing ominously. He raised his gloved hand into the air, forming a tight fist and crushing the empty space within his grip.

“The sooner our new guests grace this hotel with their presence, the better. The sooner the entertainment can begin! Why, we should get the word out as soon as possible. How does tomorrow sound, Charlie?”

With ever-grandiose gestures, he bent from his waist towards her, hands on his hips, stopping only when his face was a few inches from hers. He heard her heartbeat quicken and felt her hot breath on his nose.

Charlie looked up at him, stunned. With him so close, she found it hard to think logically. She was skeptical, but could no longer refute with specific reasons and explanations. 

She found his eyes deeply entrancing. His pupils shone like bright twin rubies, set in expansive scarlet pools. As she looked deeper in them, she found herself lost.

Alastor took in her look with well-concealed surprise. He didn’t recognize it and decided to store it for analysis at a later time.

“Tomorrow, Charlie?” he pressed.

Still dazed, Charlie responded in a dreamy voice. “Yeah, tomorrow sounds good.” 

She rubbed her eyes. “I think fatigue has settled over me. I’ll be going to bed. If anyone needs me, please don’t hesitate to knock! Vaggie and I are in room 701. It’s on the top floor, first door on the left. Goodnight everyone.”

She made her way from the brightly lit kitchen to the elevator in the center of the building. Behind her, Vaggie’s scowling, hunched frame followed wordlessly. 

\---

Alastor sat unresponsively in the kitchen as the others began to clear out. He was deep within his mind, revisiting and refining his plans with the new information he had gleaned today. 

Coming to the hotel had been a spontaneous idea. He had simply been dying to meet the princess of Hell in person after witnessing her passionate performance live on the picture show. It was like nothing he’d ever seen in his near century in Hell. 

The opposite of a skilled gambler, she wore her emotions openly for all to see. Her passion, her hope, her despair. It was all so apparent and so delicious.

How could she still express such earnest, unadulterated emotions after a near millennium in Hell? To do so was damning. The pathetic demons that made up most of Hell’s overcrowded population attacked their kind at any sign of weakness, and she was certainly no exception. He had witnessed the brutal attacks on her person himself.

Perhaps, like himself, she was playing a part. The role of a hopeful, naive little princess who tragically loved the very people that scorned and ridiculed her.

But the expressions she wore were so genuine. If she was acting, he’d have to tip his hat to her, for it was a stellar performance. 

She was a mystery to him. With slow deliberation and expert manipulation, he would slip past her defenses and get to know her, familiarizing himself with all aspects of her character, and stripping her bare before him. He would peel away at her very essence, layer by layer, until he reached the core of her being.

And when he’d had his fun and it was time to leave, he would leave behind a rude awakening. He’d hack at the roots of her hotel, her hopes, and her dreams, leaving nothing but a bare stump behind. 

But a tree doesn’t fall far if killed prematurely. It doesn’t hit the ground with a satisfying, thunderous crash. And so, he would keep an attentive eye on her and encourage her growth. Water her with his reassurances, soothing any dilemmas she might face. Fertilize her with his services, cashing in a few favors here and there for the sake of her hotel. He would build her up grandly. And then, when least expected - or when he grew bored, whichever came first - he would take his axe to her trunk, hacking in murderous glee as she and all she stands for toppled over and came crashing to the ground.

If people were still around the empty kitchen, they would question the blatantly evil expression he now wore plainly on his face. His entire face was lit in a malevolent, dark red glow. A foreboding ‘x’ the shade of blood appeared between his brows, carved prominently into the middle of his forehead. His pupils had morphed into elongated, sharpened slits like the eyes of a snake before it pounced on its prey, fangs snapping the poor thing’s frail neck and sinking deeper into the delicate, ripped flesh as it spurted fresh blood in every direction.

With no one around to string along with dexterously-weaved manipulation, Alastor need not hide himself behind clever, false masks. It felt good to relinquish control over his carefully manicured facial features, to relaxen into a more natural, diabolical expression. But his smile stayed fixed permanently, never dropping for a moment.

Satisfied with his plans, he came out of the feeling and looked around. The room was a filthy mess. Dishes were still strewn carelessly along the table where each person had eaten. 

The plentiful food splatters and blotches around where that spider-fiend had eaten made Alastor decide that his torture would be a particular fixation for him in the coming days.

With a curt snap of his fingers, he summoned his shadow minions to clean the mess. Then, he took the elevator to the top floor, retiring to his new room.

\---

Charlie laid sideways on her bed, head resting softly against her pillow and her legs entwined loosely with Vaggie’s. Her eyes were bloodshot as she stared blankly at the wall in front of her, unable to sleep.

Vaggie had been upset with her ever since she had allowed Alastor inside the hotel. Charlie knew that Vaggie had just been trying to protect her and the hotel, and Charlie certainly agreed that Alastor was sketchy as fuck, but she just couldn’t turn him away. It went against what she was trying to do. If Charlie believed that all human souls had good in them, then it followed that she must believe Alastor had good in him.

Thinking of Alastor in her sleep-deprived state surfaced strange, new thoughts in her mind. Dropping the abstract, philosophical quandary of whether or not he could be redeemed, much less if he would ever want to be, Charlie thought back to the way his touch had felt on her bare wrist at the front door when they had first met, and on her shoulder in the kitchen when he had proposed promoting the hotel on the radio. His hands were constantly wrapped in a pair of sleek black gloves. At the scarlet ends of his fingertips, Charlie could feel his sharp claws poking through the fabric and lightly into her skin. 

Goosebumps dotted her arms. 

She thought of his voice. It was deeply sensual and exhibited a wide, melodious range in vocals. He had called her such endearing, affectionate names with it.

In that moment, she was captivated with the thought of him and craved his touch. But even in her late-night haze, she felt another sentiment more strongly - absolute repulsion. Repulsion at herself, for having such troubling thoughts. Repulsion at him for being the catalyst. She wished she could just sleep this night away, wake up feeling refreshed and ready to work on the hotel, and never have such inappropriate thoughts again.

A hand snaked over her shoulder and across her waist. Charlie sighed pleasantly, imagining it to be his touch.

Then, she scowled, perplexed and angry with herself. The intimate touch had been from her loving girlfriend, Vaggie, _not_ the murderous stranger she seemingly found herself infatuated with that night. She swept a rough hand through her messy hair.

Deciding to get out of bed for some fresh air, Charlie slowly eased herself from her partner’s embrace and scooched off their shared bed, careful not to wake her. 

Donning on her long, raven-black silk robe, she headed out of their private space and into the hotel’s hallway, advancing towards the large, communal balcony on the top floor. She pushed open the sliding glass door and stepped outside.

The pleasant, crisp sensation of the cold air against her skin soothed her. Her hands perched themselves delicately atop the white balcony rail as she breathed in the night air deeply. 

“Can’t sleep?” a charming, deep voice asked from behind, startling her. Charlie spun around. Her eyes met with Alastor’s smug, lithe face. 

Her eyebrows knit together. “What are you doing here, Alastor?” she started.

‘ _Did I actually manage to fall asleep? Am I dreaming right now?’_ she wondered.

“I was checking out my new abode that you so courteously bestowed upon me when I suddenly saw the proprietress of my latest investment standing outside, all alone, in the bitter cold at two past midnight.

“Being the gentleman that I am, I simply couldn’t ignore it. So tell me, what ails you, princess?” His tone was soft, but there was a note of teasing in his mannerisms.

She was too tired to think and unwilling to play any games at this late hour. Her response was curt. “Nothing.”

“The signs of insomnia are evident on your fair face, and before such a big day no less! Tomorrow’s your big debut on the radio! You aren’t having doubts, are you my dear?”

She shook her head. “No.. it’s nothing to do with that” 

“Then, what’s worrying you, Charlotte?”

The way he spoke her name, caressing the evocation sensually with his tongue, sent butterflies to her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered lightly, and she fought to keep standing upright, clawing at the railing for support as she felt her knees buckle.

Alastor noted the strange expression on her face. It was similar to the look she had given him earlier, and it still puzzled him.

She gulped, trying to think of some plausible excuse. “N- no, it’s really nothing. Just woke up from a strange dream and wanted a breath of fresh air before returning to bed. That’s all.”

Alastor’s ears twitched, curious. He pried for more information. “From the look on your face, it must have been some dream.”

Her cheeks burned. She deflected his inquisitive look with a question of her own. “What about you, Al? What are you doing up still? Is your new bed uncomfortable?”

He chuckled lightly. “No, the hotel facilities here are as fine as yourself. I simply don’t sleep much.”

Her wide eyes looked up at him. “Why not?” she asked in a breathy tone.

Taking a step closer, Alastor came up beside her. His clawed fingers brushed through a stray lock of her hair before arranging it to neatly frame her face.

His voice momentarily shed its constant radio static accompaniment. “You should go back to sleep, dear. I’d say you need your beauty sleep, but your features are mesmerizing regardless of what you do.”

Before she could respond, his form faded before her, a hazy shade taking his place before it, too, disappeared into the night. 

Alastor retreated back to the privacy of his new room. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. _What was that? What compelled me to do such a thing? That’s not the role I’m playing._ He wasn’t sure what that was. It had felt like another force had taken over his body and his mind, easily leading him through motions that were foreign to him. He did not like it. He needed the assurance of always being the one in control.

But his heart pounded erratically in his chest and his grin stretched from ear to ear. It had been a thrilling encounter. 

Was this game he was playing with the princess of Hell too dangerous? No, that’s what made it entertaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments below. 
> 
> I have a lot of scenes in my head, so stay tuned for more.


	3. Morning of the Radio Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor prepares for his highly-anticipated interview with the ever-curious Princess of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited since original posting.

Alastor awoke feeling sore and slightly rested. His pale gray face laid laterally against his unpleasant, bony knees. He was sitting on the cold, bare floor of his new room in the hotel, his lengthy back slouched slightly inwards away from the door.

His head arose from its careless sleeping position, suddenly and unnaturally. He leaned his head to the right at a near ninety-degree angle until he heard his neck pop with a sharp crack like the snapping of a twig.

He took out his pocket watch hidden from within his crimson coat and looked at the time. Half past four in the morning. 

That meant he had slept an unusually long two hours without interruption. How pleasantly surprising. 

He shot up from the floor and headed to the bathroom. Like the rest of his new private quarters, it was starkly empty. A dull gray colored the walls. 

Stripping himself bare of his slacks, coat, and undergarments, Alastor turned the dials on the shower as far as they would go and stepped into the scalding downpour.

The pain was absolutely marvelous, and it woke him up instantly. He hummed a soft tune as he scrubbed himself abrasively, cleansing his skin of any impermanent imperfections. Of course, the many scars etched along his back, neck, and limbs would remain, but he harshly scrubbed away at them anyway.

Steam fogging up the small room, he thought of the day ahead of him. Today, he would have the pleasure of hosting Charlotte Magne, the ever-curious princess of Hell, on his esteemed radio show. Whirls and buzzes of static-like white noise mixed with the foggy air as he contemplated.

If he was going to perform yet another marvelous seizing and manipulation of Hell’s airwaves, he would need to feed today. That uninspiring standoff with the preposterous, pathetic viper-demon yesterday had drained his energy dangerously low, and he had the dark bags under his eyes to prove it.

His humming grew louder at the pleasant thought of sinking his animalistic, yellow-stained teeth into an unknowing demon and feasting on both their delicious flesh and ethereal soul. Then he decided. He would visit his favorite hunting spot immediately after finishing his morning routine.

With a brisk twist of the knob, the shower stopped. Alastor stepped out, his skin marred and blistering from the high heat and rough care. Alastor dried himself off before immaculately dressing himself in a fresh crimson suit. He headed down to the communal kitchen where he prepared a steaming cup of black coffee. He admired its enticing aroma with a deep inhale. An unrelenting, cheerful hum radiating from the back of his throat, he headed further down the hotel’s stairway until he was at ground floor, the hotel’s lobby. 

Finding a comfortable, stiff-backed armchair, he sat himself down eloquently and sipped on his coffee. 

‘ _Ah, what a pleasant, quiet morning,_ ’ he thought delightfully to himself. Outside, the air was still peaceful. Other than the aimless, pitiful demons who had made their homes on the streets, not a soul was in sight. He heard a nearby murder of infernal crows cackling and cawing amongst each other. It sounded like they were fighting over a scrap of meat. Alastor smirked as his imagination ran free with the idea, painting a beautiful, blood-soaked picture in his head.

When he had thoroughly enjoyed and emptied his morning cup of coffee, he snapped the mug out of existence. A hazy, shadow-like portal appeared before him as though a knife had cut into the very fabric of space. Alastor stood from the armchair, and briskly walked through the summoned portal.

Magically materializing on the other end, Alastor took in his new environment carefully as the portal collapsed behind him.

The surrounding area was in ruins. A few half-demolished buildings scattered the landscape with thick chunks of debris. The ground was an endless dusty brown, stretching flat for miles, apart from the many cracked crevices and meteor-like craters carved into it.

He was at one of Hell’s landing zones, a place that new demons, recently deceased in the living realm, first entered their new eternal, bleak home.

It was here that sleazy, cowardice demons flocked, lying in wait for prey hopefully weaker than themselves to emerge - stunned, confused, and scared at their new surroundings. The fools hoped to engorge themselves on the lifeforce of these new demons before they knew how to summon their newfound strength and powers. Such cannibalism made demons stronger.

Well, slightly stronger. After all, one weakling demon plus another weakling demon was still pitifully weak. Alastor chuckled darkly to himself at the thought. It would take thousands, if not millions of cannibalized souls for Alastor to truly feel a need to be wary around these wretched weaklings.

A gray mist spreading down from the intense red sky interrupted his thoughts. He gazed up at it in awe. 

The dark fog descended slowly from above. It lowered with it a puny, stark-naked body. 

‘ _Will this new denizen of Hell be strong enough to protect themself from the scavengers lying in wait?_ ’ he mused silently. Regardless, they needn’t worry today, for they would have a temporary guardian. What miraculous luck!

A sudden scream of agony bellowed from its suspended, delicate mouth. She gripped her head painfully as tall, white ears sprouted. Short white tufts of fur emerged in random clumps across her body. With the emergence of each new patch, she woefully yelped. Her hands which were holding down her new, rabbit-like ears grew grotesque as the skin began to boil and the fingers oozed off. Petite, white paws replaced them.

‘ _Ah, a small, albino bunny-demon! Is she merely what she resembles, an easy meal for her unsuspecting onlookers, or do her prey-like looks deceive her true nature?_ ’ 

Alastor’s ears twitched towards the menacing snicker emerging from one of the crumbling buildings. He narrowed his eyes at the lowly scavenger, his smile creeping further across his face. 

The wolf-demon scavenger crouched into position, his two large forepaws lowering towards the ground. The four curved, black talons on each forepaw dug into the soft earth easily, and repeated the motion in anticipation of his kill.

A good few feet off the ground, the new arrival was dropped, suddenly and carelessly, onto the rocky ground below her. She sniffled, tears streaming down her furry white cheeks as she scanned her body for any resemblance of her once-human form. But she did not see a single reminder of her former self. She slowly picked herself up and took a hesitant step forward, only to stumble and fall back down against the hard ground. 

Taking this as his cue, the wolf-demon leaped into the air from his dark concealment. His claws tore into the dirt in a hurried, uneven manner, sprinting straight towards the unguarded bunny-demon. 

Three other wolf-demons of similar stature appeared from scattered hiding spots and raced towards their prey, forming a rapidly narrowing circle around her. The she-demon shrieked and began to dart towards one of the closing gaps, but her unfamiliarity with her new legs made her trip again. Oh, she was hopeless! Alastor watched the spectacle unfold before him with a wicked gleam, his ruby eyes shining brilliantly. 

The four wolves bounded towards her. She closed her eyes in defeat and pushed her forepaws out in an attempt to protect herself as the first wolf came within striking distance. Her long ears jumped at the sound of excruciating, lethal contact, yet she felt no pain. Astonished, she timidly lifted one eyelid, peering up from the ground. Her mouth widened in shock. 

One moment away from sinking his jagged fangs into her and enjoying the fresh taste of raw meat, a towering, crimson figure had abruptly materialized between him and his prey. Before the wolf-demon could react, he saw the side of a tall staff approach him with rapid speed. _Smack!_ With a resounding thud, the new entrant had batted the scavenger far away from his would-be prey and into the air, landing a good thirty feet away, bloody and bruised. 

The air buzzed dangerously around the Radio Demon with deafening radio static. His figure blurred before the scared bunny-demon as he phased and rematerialized in front of the next contender. _Bat!_ His lips stretched widely across his face, exposing a menacing smile of sharp, yellowed teeth. One of his arms rose from his staff-turned-baseball-bat up to his forehead, imitating a visor to block out the glare from the sun as he peered far out in front of him. He took his staff and raised it to his lips.

“Alastor bats the two scoundrels far out of left field with his trusty mic! Why, it’s a double home run!” he narrated to no one in particular. The applause echoing from the microphone staff thundered loudly. “The score is two-zero with team Radio Demon in the lead, but it’s anyone’s game at this point, folks. The two other _lowlives_ are quickly making their way towards him and home base. Will they steal the prize from right underneath his nose?” 

Growls rumbled from the two remaining wolves as they stalked slowly towards the two in the center. They began to circle them, their eyes shifting to look between the tasty meal before them to the dangerous new opponent and back again. The other two hurt wolves that had been sent flying far away from the center of action shook the dirt from their coats before sprinting to join their pack. Their snarls grew louder as the circle filled out and narrowed. One of the unharmed wolves broke from the formation, leaping towards his prize. 

With an elegant flick of the wrist, Alastor raised his hand to the air above him and snapped his fingers. His and the bunny-demon’s figures phased out from within the four wolves’ grasps and appeared above them, floating motionlessly as though having suddenly been granted the ability to stand in midair. 

The leaping wolf collided with another of the wolves, canines biting deeply into its flank. Eyes wild with fury, the assailed wolf howled at his attacker, unlatching his jaw before taking a vengeful bite of his own into the exposed neck of his attacker.

“What’s this? In an unpredictable turn of events, it seems that members of the losing team are fighting amongst themselves now. What a sorry display of teamwork, ladies and gents!” A rupture of boo’s emerged from the microphone staff.

“Well, if they’ve given up on this appetizing carrot cake and formed their own ruthless game of tag, I shan’t be the one to stand in the way of their fun. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a stickler for rules! Oh ho ho, no, in fact,” his voice deepened to an inhuman, bewitching tone, “let us support them fully in this devouring game of theirs!”

Alastor’s eyes shut briefly before opening widely. In place of his usual red sclerae were deep, hissing pits of red-and-black static glowing with a terrifying red hue. His face darkened from its usual ghostly gray-white complexion to a sinister shade and titled sharply. His mouth twitched.

He turned a dial on his staff gradually with a gloved claw. With each tick of the dial, the wolves’ faces contorted further into madness. The four wolf-demons launched at one another, tearing and ripping flesh to pieces. Their fragile alliance broke into pieces as they shredded one another alive. 

Eventually, only one wolf still stood, blood dripping from his fangs. He felt a bottomless hunger for living flesh. The feeling crazed him and took over entirely. Whatever he had been before dissipated, leaving only a hungry, cannibalistic beast in its wake. His eyes fixated wildly at the collapsed bodies before him, their blood pooling together in a delicious red cocktail. He launched at each of them, snapping at their necks until he heard their heartbeats fade. Though plentiful uneaten flesh lay before him, it would do nothing to sate his crazed hunger unless it was alive. He needed something alive. He needed it now. He couldn’t bear it. His head turned towards his own flank and he sank his teeth in deeply. Mmm, yes. Only living flesh could sate his taste. Only living flesh...

His bloodied body collapsed alongside the others.

“Oh ho ho, what a rousing performance!” An applauding audience erupted from his microphone staff. “I thought the Ouroborus was a snake demon, not a wolf demon! Ha! Color me surprised!” He chuckled darkly at his own joke as he and the bunny-demon slowly floated towards the ground. A faint whistling tune could be heard on his lips.

Their feet began to touch down gracefully. His hand twirled in the air towards her, and she gasped as her bare form was suddenly covered in an elegant yet simple 1920's-inspired lavender dress.

Without missing a step, Alastor twirled his staff playfully around his dexterous fingers and walked off towards the four corpses before them. “Toodle-oo, sweet summer child! Welcome to Hell,” he bid her farewell in an upbeat tone.

Her eyes gazed in awe over new attire and form. So much had happened already in the few moments since her arrival to Hell. It had been overwhelmingly terrifying to witness her body crudely denature and reform before her very eyes and then end up nearly eaten alive by a pack of terrifying, anthropomorphic wolves. But this man had saved her from that terrible fate. 

And this man was now leaving her.

\---

Suppressing a yawn, Charlie began her day with a joyful stretch and a cheery smile as she arose from her bed. She turned and looked lovingly at her girlfriend Vaggie, who was still wrapped within the fluffy blankets, snoring peacefully. Charlie leaned down and gave her a soft peck on the forehead.

“Good morning, lovely!” Charlie greeted, gently rising Vaggie from her slumber.

“Hnn, morning...” was her drowsy reply.

Unsatisfied with the weak response, Charlie planted kisses all along Vaggie’s exposed arm, up to her shoulder, and along her collarbone. 

Vaggie cried out with uncontrollable glee. “Ah! Ha, Charlie!” She laughed, “Okay, haha, stop it, stop it! I’ll get up. You win!” With a big smile on her face, Vaggie rose from her bed, hugging Charlie affectionately. 

“You seem more cheerful than usual this morning, Charlie! What’s got you feeling so happy?” Vaggie asked. She wore an expression of complete bliss and serenity as though she was in her own private heaven.

“Oh, Vaggie, I’m just so happy!” Charlie beamed. “I can feel the progress we’re making every day. I’m finally helping my people! We have three new guests staying at the hotel, and they even want to help out! That’s like a, uh, four-hundred percent increase from when we had just Angel!”

Vaggie couldn’t help but get swept along in her girlfriend’s contagious enthusiasm. “Three-hundred percent, Charlie, but who’s counting." The moth-demoness smirked. "You’re ridiculous!”

“Oh! And today, we might get even more guests! I can’t wait till the interview with Alastor!” she hummed.

At the mention of that devil’s name, Vaggie’s happiness came crashing down and her fantasized heaven shattered, leaving awful reality in its place. She became enraged as she remembered the events of yesterday, and how her lover had let that monster into their home.

“Charlie, you need to get rid of him! He will ruin everything we’ve worked for. We can’t trust him.”

Charlie looked somberly at her girlfriend, feeling their perfect moment fade away. A frown appeared on her lips. “Vaggie, I thought you understood. I can’t turn him away. I told my people that there was a rainbow inside every one of them, Vaggie. Every one! If I turned my back on him before I had even met him, before he had done _anything_ remotely bad to us or the hotel, then what kind of person would I be? Certainly not the one I have been trying to live like for the past five-hundred years!”

“Ugh! Charlie, I know it goes against who you are and what we’re trying to do here. But he’s bad news! I can tell! You’ve heard what he’s done, Charlie! He’s a serial killer! He won’t give us a chance, Charlie! We can’t redeem those that don’t want to be redeemed, and you heard him himself! He. Does. Not. Want. To. Be. Redeemed.”

Charlie felt her tears welling up, and she turned away from her girlfriend, feeling hurt. No one took her seriously. No one was willing to give her dream a chance, not even her girlfriend. Without another word, she headed out the door.

“Charlie, wait!” Vaggie cried out. “I - I’m sorry, Charlie. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

The sentiment enraged her. Porcelain horns the color of her skin sprouted from her forehead, tipped in scarlet. Her eyes bled red, and her fangs lengthened into daggers. “I _don’t_ need your protection! I don’t need your lousy pity, either. _I’m an immortal, royal devil, Vaggie, the antichrist! I can take care of myself just fine_!” As her anger surged, she heard her voice distort, but she was beyond caring now. 

She slammed the door of their room, splintering it slightly at the frame, and walked down to the communal kitchen, taking the emergency flight of stairs for the double purpose of having less chances to encounter anyone and gaining more time to gather her emotions. 

Where was that newborn demon coming from, wanting to protect a being like her! The sheer preposterousness! The hubris! If only Vaggie knew the horrors Charlie had caused in her first few hundred years of existence. Maybe then she wouldn’t foolishly try to protect her like some helpless puppy.

By the time Charlie had reached the kitchen, she had slightly calmed down. She took a deep breath, and willed her frightening demeanor away. She was careful not to let others see her like that. After all, who would listen to her if they knew she herself was irredeemable! But it flared up sometimes. 

She fixed herself a small plate of pancakes. Pancakes always made her feel better with their warm, fluffy quality. But she didn’t feel very hungry and couldn’t finish them all. 

A sudden idea popped into her head. She placed her leftover pancakes on a plate, and rode the elevator up to the top floor. She passed by her own room, feeling a quick pang of residual resentment, and stepped in front of Alastor’s door. She knocked. 

_Knock, knock._

There was nothing but silence on the other end. Charlie looked down at her shoes. “Hey, Alastor! Uh. Good morning. I just wanted to say thank you for all you’ve already done. Thank you, really. I know you think you’re only selfishly doing this all for yourself, but you’ve already done some really kind actions, Alastor.” She paused, blushing. Then, she sang out, “Since you were so nice as to make us dinner last night, I wanted to make you breakfast! So here’s some pancakes. I’ll leave them here for when you wake up. See you later, sleepyhead!”

She placed the plate of food down beside his door. She then strolled over to a nearby table, picking up a pad of paper and a pen, and wrote a quick note. She plucked the note from the pad, and placed the things back on the table. Then she carefully placed the note on top of the pancakes. ‘ _There! That should explain things._ ’ Satisfied, she walked away and headed to her office, joyfully thinking of ways to prepare for her interview later that day. 

\---

The moment Lena was no longer suspended in the air by his magic, the female bunny-demon collapsed in on her legs. Her head was spinning, trying to process the traumatic events. She was a bunny now, mysteriously. She was dead now, and in Hell. She had been nearly killed -- again, but this time much more brutally. But she had been saved by that man! That man -- who was now walking away. Watching her savior abandon her like that, she panicked and grabbed at his left coattail.

“Please, sir! Please don’t leave me! I don’t want to end up dead like them. Please, take me with you, sir,” she begged.

His head snapped backwards in her direction, a displeased scowl appearing for a moment due to the way she pathetically hung to his coattails. He did _not_ like to be touched. Even just having his clothing brush shoulders with passer-bys was enough to make him irritated. 

He collected himself and smoothed his facial features quickly, revealing his trademark, dapper smile. “In case you missed it, I must unfortunately remind you that you are already dead, my dear. As for your request…” he thought about it for a moment, static buzzing around him. “While it is certainly and easily within my power to guarantee your safety with a spot by my side, I do implore you to explore your surroundings on your own first. An eternity forever bound to a stranger is a cruel fate, is it not?” he grinned, somehow radiating both menace and mannerliness.

She thought it over quickly. This man had power, and this man had promised he could keep her safe. He had even already spoiled her with a stunning dress. A smile spread across her face. She may have appeared weak in that moment, faced with an unpredictable and cruel fate, but in time, she would powerfully boast her feminine charms in her new body. Soon, this man would be putty in her hands like the many other boy-toys she'd kept while she was living. 

“Yes, please sir! I will do whatever I can in return, but please keep me safe. I don’t want to end up like them.” She begged in an irresistible tone. Men ate this damsel-in-distress shit up. It worked every time.

“If that is what you wish.” His smile widened and the eerie radio static in his voice amplified. 

He spun around in a swift, refined manner, breaking her hold on him, and began to dust off his tailored pinstripe suit. His arms reached towards her and helped her up graciously. She stood there feigning timidness, shifting her weight unevenly from one foot to the other. 

A slender arm from his lean frame stretched out in front of her, palm facing upwards. As a scroll materialized above his palm and began to write itself with a feathered, blood-red quill pen, an ominous wind surrounded them. The energy around them glowed a ghastly green hue, the color of deadly poison. The title of the scroll read ‘Contract’ in large, menacing letters.

“Do we have a deal then?” Alastor coaxed, pressing the quill into her hands. 

The bunny-demon smirked up at him before grabbing the quill pen. She signed her name in graceful, curly letters. ‘Lena.’

When she signed the last letter of her name, the scroll abruptly dematerialized before her in a puff of green smoke. 

She looked at Alastor, and noticed that he had gotten taller. Much taller. Her eyes met just above his ankles and before his knees. She no longer felt the lavender dress flowing softly against her skin. She looked down, and her eyes widened in horror as she took in yet another new form. Her form was now black and slightly translucent, resembling a figure made of smoke. She couldn’t be taller than three feet, maybe even two feet. Suddenly her feet, atrocious and hoof-like, moved of their own accord, marching behind Alastor and in tune with his footsteps. She tried to scream in horror, but realized that she could not, her own mouth disobeying her.

“Per your request Lena, you will never experience the empty, freeing void that lays beyond this realm. Your soul is mine for all eternity. Consider our contract sealed, my newborn shadow minion.”

Alastor continued towards the four corpses that lay before him. With an acute snap from his fingers, a large pool of black, oily liquid opened beneath them. The bodies seeped into the goo gradually. Sinister black appendages burst from the sludge and feasted hungrily on the bodies. One tentacle plucked something from a carcass and slithered towards Alastor, dropping the possession in his outstretched hand.

“Why, thank you dearie! So kind of you,” Alastor snarkily praised the eldritch extensions of his inner demon before taking a brutal chomp out of the sinewy, delectable heart he now held between his sharp claws.

\---

After succinctly enjoying his meal and feeding his inner demon and all his shadow minions, including the recently incorporated Lena, Alastor headed back to the hotel to prepare for his interview with the Princess. 

‘ _How silly of me,_ ’ he thought to himself humorously, ‘ _Why, I took a shower right before becoming a bloody mess! And so early in the day! Well, nothing like two showers to really clean off all that disgusting,_ intangible _filth_.’ 

And so Alastor showered for a second time that day, with the same deliberation and roughness that he had put into the first. 

When he was once again clean and presentable, he bounded out of his room with a single purpose on his mind, but stopped when he saw an unexpected bundle placed before his door.

He plucked the note up nimbly between his thumb and index finger and gradually raised it to eyes. He read it quickly. Then, puzzled, he read it again.

‘ _Oh, Charlie,_ ’ he purred silently, her name vibrating pleasantly throughout his mind. With the note freshly on his mind, he instantly decided on how he would interview her. It would be a very busy day indeed. He had much to prepare before their interview.

He took a bite of the pancakes she had endearingly made for him. They tasted absolutely revolting. Their sweet taste did nothing to appease his twisted, cannibalistic palette. 

He continued to dine on them, not stopping until the plate was empty. 

‘ _Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,’_ he tsked playfully at the absent girl. ‘ _The things you make me do. I’ll be sure to pay you back for this -- kindness -- Charlie._ ’

Oh, Alastor couldn’t wait to break his new toy. He wasn’t a very patient man. But first, he would enact his part with her, courteously and devoutly, like she was the only one that mattered in his mundane after-life.

And there was some truth in that statement. 

This game had truly been one of his most entertaining thralls, and it had only been a single day! And his mind couldn’t help it. It was laser-focused, solely concerning itself with a single obsession at a time. Then, when the slightest signs of boredom reared its ugly head, he felt all interest completely evaporate. He didn’t feel anything more for the late obsession than what he had felt before it had begun. 

‘ _How long can you keep my interest, darling?_ ’ he mused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments below~
> 
> Stay tuned for more.


	4. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor pays a forceful visit to three unsuspecting victims, Angel Dust, Charlie, and Gibson. 
> 
> One of the victims emerges as one not to be toyed with.

Angel Dust strutted into the Happy Hotel’s lobby, expertly swaying his ass as his sinful legs carried him towards the new bar and handsome barkeep. Angel had dismissed the barkeep’s rejection last time as simple coyness. ‘ _After all, who could resist this smokin’ bod?_ ’ he silently flattered himself. So he’d try again, and if he missed his shot, well, at least he’d get a shot of liquor for his troubles.

With the most lustful, husky voice he could summon, Angel leaned over the bar table, chest puffed out, and engaged the gruff demon. “Hey good lookin’.”

Husk had known Angel’s piggish intentions from the moment Angel had taken a single step towards his bar. The frown on his permanently-grumpy face deepened. ‘ _Couldn’t a guy drink himself senseless in peace?_ ‘

Husk’s reply was curt. “Not happening.” 

“Aw c’mon, whiskers. I’ll make you _purr_ while I deepthroat that Richard of yours.”

“Fuck. Off. How many times do I have to tell you no.”

Angel studied the cat-demon in front of him, his eyes sweeping across the card suits prominent on his red-and-black wings. Small etchings of clubs, hearts, diamonds, and spades lined his feathers.

“How’s abouta game of cards? Blackjack? I win and you sleep with me, gorgeous. You win, and I’ll cough up the cash I’ve been hoarding for drugs.”

Husk’s long, feathered brows piqued with interest at the mention of gambling, especially at the thought of an easy cash grab. He looked over the pornstar with narrowed, assessing eyes. There wasn’t a chance in Hell this harlot could beat him. The deck would be stacked against him and the poor fool would be none the wiser.

“How much?” Husk inquired lazily, expertly keeping his voice even and his poker face on to mask his eagerness.

“Six-fifty big ones,” Angel smiled back at him. His gold fang glinted in the light.

“Ha! You’re on,” Husk greedily accepted the wager. He shoved his white claw into his back pocket, pulling out the trusty card deck that he always kept on his person.

He began shuffling the cards with skillful mastery, but out of the corner of his eye he could see a familiar, overbearing figure approaching them.

“Ah, Husker! I see you’re entertaining the very sinner I was looking for. Do excuse us for a moment.” 

Without another word, Alastor snapped his fingers, and he and Angel disappeared from the bar in a puff of red smoke.

Husk coughed as he breathed in some of the foul fumes. He scowled, his red feathered brows knitting together. “For fuck’s sake, Alastor, keeping my winnings from me again? You fucking jackass!” Husk hollered loudly.

But there was no one still in the room to reply.

\---

Angel looked up at the towering, crimson demon with annoyance. Without warning, he had been suddenly transported to a dark, empty room -- very much against his will -- and was being pushed into a hard wooden chair. The only light in the room emitted faintly from Alastor’s red glowing eyes and menacing yellow smile.

“What the fuck was that for, ya lousy strawberry pimp? I was finally easing my way onto that hot rod’s exhaust pipe,” Angel ran his mouth off at the demon, not noticing the way Alastor’s pupils were gradually morphing into thin needles.

Luckily for him, Alastor found this spectacle amusing for the moment. So much spunk in that scrawny frame! Alastor could not remember the last time a foolish dunderhead had had the gall to hurl insults at him after being taken hostage.

But his patience ran thin. As Angel Dust continued to yap that unpleasant, foul mouth at him, Alastor’s eyes continued their transformation until red radio dials were staring sinisterly down at Angel. 

He wagged his dagger-like index finger down at him, and Angel’s mouth mysteriously stopped.

“Are you quite done yet?” Alastor inquired, bored. His voice was full of radio static. Then, chuckling to himself at Angel’s compulsory lack of response, he continued, “Good! Now, with my impending radio interview with our dear Charlie just hours away, I couldn’t help but remember the wretched fool who had made her first interview such a disaster.”

Angel’s mismatched eyes widened in alarm. He fought against the knotted restraints that had suddenly appeared around his body, binding him to the chair. He would have considered the situation incredibly kinky if he was with anyone _but_ this creepy maniac. Or if he had at least been getting paid. But neither of those were true. ‘ _Oh no. What’s this unhinged mass murderer gonna do to my much-adored, rockin’ bod?_ ‘

“I promised her that this interview would go swimmingly. Ha! The gall. Why that new business partner of mine is quite the charmer, making me guarantee her something for _nothing in return_!”

Static blared and rebounded off the immediate walls. Angel felt sorry for ever even thinking of bedding this deranged madman.

“So, to ensure that problem doesn’t happen again, I’m going to leave you here to mull over your brash mistakes. When I come back, I expect a well-articulated apology from those lips.”

Angel breathed a sigh of relief. So he wouldn’t have his goods mangled. That was good. But just how long would that creep keep him here?

No further words were spoken in the narrow space, but Angel still saw that large, fanged smile faintly gleaming down at him. 

A radio behind him had begun to shift through different frequencies, as if looking for a particular station and being unable to find it. The harsh, off-key static that it emitted was occasionally replaced by an old-timey melody, only to resurface again soon after.

Angel couldn’t tell if the Radio Demon was still in the room with him. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed since he had last heard him speak. He saw his dreadful smile and heard that blasted, never-ending radio, but there was no other sign of the Radio Demon’s presence in that dark, vapid room. 

\---

At a quarter to two, Alastor opened the door of Charlie’s office with uncontained vigor. The sudden, snap opening shocked Charlie, and she pulled back, nearly falling off her chair. 

Papers floated down from her desk in a disorderly mess. 

Unabated, Alastor strut into her room, closing the door behind him with a single, forceful hand. He felt his smirk widen at seeing the disarray his sudden presence had caused her. In a fluid motion, he bent resplendently from his tall knees to pick up the newly scattered papers strewn carelessly about the tiny room. 

“So, Miss Charlotte,” she heard him say as though continuing a forgotten conversation. 

Charlie stared at him with her wide, doe-like eyes for a moment, stunned into inaction by the sudden chaos he had brought with him. Then, she started helping him pick up after her own mess.

“While you’ve graciously accepted my offer to help you with this entertaining idea of yours, I’m afraid I can’t get much work done without a private working space.”

Charlie’s hand wavered, hovering over a paper on the floor. Her eyebrows furrowed at the realization. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Alastor. Let me just -”

“No need!” Alastor interrupted, his tone lively. “I’ve already humbly taken it upon myself to settle into the cozy little office adjoining this one. Don’t ruffle a single hair on your head, dearie! It’s all taken care of.”

Charlie tilted her head to the side, unsure of how to process this new information. It seemed odd, and perhaps a tad overstepping on his part, for him to make such a decision without her or anyone’s consent. But the room _was_ empty. And it _did_ alleviate some stress to see someone other than herself making snappy decisions for the hotel. ‘ _Well, he certainly is a go-getter_ ,’ she finally decided.

“Oh. Umm... thanks?” was her bewildered response. She continued collecting the papers.

Their hands came into contact over one of the few remaining papers. 

Alastor was about to leap away from the unwanted contact faster than a hissing cat leaping away from a suddenly-appearing, snake-like cucumber, but then he felt something intriguing bubbling under her skin. Coursing within her blood and through her veins, he felt a raw, festering strength with such unimaginable potency.

Her touch hadn’t felt like this before. It had felt jolting, yes, electric even, but not this overwhelmingly powerful. Something must have happened to have caused her power to flare up like this.

His head was running wild with the possibilities. His eyes were wide in shock, and a thin, strained smile was pressed on his face. The one he had taken for a cheap thrill, this Charlotte Magne, was no weakling. True to her title as heiress to Hell’s throne, she was a formidable devil. Her potential might even be more impressive than his own…

But then why did she allow others to walk all over her? To treat her as if she was beneath them when she clearly was not? His head was reeling. He needed time to calculate, to ponder over what this new finding meant for his plans.

Her hand was still on his.

For the first time in a long time, he felt absolutely stunned and without a plan of action.

Charlie pulled her hand back, a blush appearing on her cheeks. “S - sorry, Al.” She collected the few remaining papers and stacked them neatly on her desk. 

“Thank you for helping me,” she beamed at him, taking the papers from his grasp.

Alastor felt the papers be ripped from his firm clutches. 

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about, Al?” she asked, her black eyes looking up at him, wide and without malicious intent.

He collected himself with great effort. He would ruminate later, for now he still had an audience, and therefore still had a role to play. “Yes! I wanted to remind the lovely lady that our interview is today at three-o-clock sharp. Please meet me in my office when the time comes.”

Needing time alone and certainly not in the presence of this perplexing creature, he turned and headed out of her office without a goodbye.

‘ _Now that was quite ungentlemanly_ ,’ he reflected before promptly discarding the thought. He had bigger things to worry about. 

\---

When the clock struck ten till three, Charlie arose from her office chair with a tinge of nervousness and giddy excitement. She was ready, and this time, she’d persuade her people that there really was another way to spend their afterlife. She had rehearsed her speech a couple dozen times already today in preparation, with Niffty and Husk as her captive, if slightly confused and peeved, audience. 

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor had also been busy making his own preparations for their interview that day, but in a starkly different fashion. After restoring his powers to a satisfactory quantity and tying up loose ends such as that disgusting sex worker, Alastor had spent the late morning searching Hell for a particular sorry sap that he had come across the same day he had witnessed Charlie’s deeply comical announcement on the picture shows. 

And when he had finally picked up on the unique energy signature of his target walking down one of Hell's crumbling streets, he’d promptly materialized in front of the poor fellow. Oh, the appealing look of horror on his pale blue face.

“Hello, my fortuitous fellow! It’s your lucky day!” he exclaimed energetically. 

Nonchalantly invading the small demon’s personal space, Alastor took a large step forward, nearly treading over the goat-demon’s small hooves. He grabbed his frail blue hand and clasped it firmly between his two gloved claws, shaking it vigorously.

“Name’s Alastor, esteemed radio host and recent shepherd to lost, pitiful souls like yours!”

Gibson felt the color drain from his face as he saw the infamous, homicidal overlord not only appear before him suddenly, but additionally and bizarrely take an interest in him as well.

Just _what_ had he done to attract such panic-attack-inducing attention?

He veered away and tried to make a mad dash for it, but Alastor was too quick for him. The crimson demon effortlessly blocked his path. 

Alastor snaked a long arm across the goat-demon’s hunched back, his nails digging into the uncovered shoulder and drawing droplets of blood. Then, he pulled the poor sap swiftly towards his torso. The fear radiating from the small blue goat-demon was palpable as it delectably infused with the air around them.

Alastor continued the joyful one-sided conversation with his victim. “I couldn’t help but overhear the other day that _you_ ,” he pointed at the scrawny demon’s chest with a pointed finger, ”had the audacity to believe your worthless, wretched soul was adequate enough for Heaven.”

‘ _Oh. So that’s what this is about._ ’ Gibson tensed his body, physically preparing himself to take the unfinished beating from yesterday. 

Alastor watched his movements with malevolent glee, reading his thoughts easily. “Oh, my pathetic fellow, I’m not going to hurt you! Ha! No, I’m here to help!”

With the smallest of movements, Gibson pivoted his head to look the overlord in the eyes, his own orange eyes wide. He was flabbergasted. His body was still tensed. Surely, he was being toyed with.

“I happen to represent the delusionally hopeful hotel you saw on the picture show that day! And you’re just the sorry sap looking to redeem themself that I need! Come, come. There’s much to be done today.” Hand still firmly digging into the goat-demon’s shoulder, Alastor pressed him forward, urging the fellow to keep up with the swift walking speed he now set for them. 

What a pleasant gift he would surprise the princess with later that day. A new, deliriously optimistic guest for her hotel! The fellow may be on edge now, but Alastor knew that once he made the princess' acquaintance and listened to her idealistic spiel, he would be just the pathetic sucker to believe in redemption enough to start pushing boulders up hills. For this reason, Alastor didn't particularly find it worth his time to play nice with the lowly worm. There was no additional benefit.

He’d planned on introducing the two before the interview, but then she had touched him, and that terrifying, exhilarating contact had numbed his mind.

Oh well. The slight slip up was nothing he couldn’t handle, though he had reprimanded himself thoroughly for it under his breath when no one was looking. He’d introduce the two over the airwaves. A spontaneous mystery guest to keep her on her toes. Now that was entertainment!

\---

At the present moment, Charlie was hesitating in front of Alastor’s new office door, her hand curled into a fist and seconds away from knocking on the hardwood.

Without even touching it, the ebony door creaked before her, letting out a low groan as it opened inward to reveal a dimly lit room. Charlie stood and waited for Alastor to appear beside the door, his ever-present smile poised to greet her. 

But he was on the other side of the room, straightening a colossal portrait on the otherwise bare, onyx wall that overlooked the door. The painting depicted him in a menacing art form. His arms were stretched into thin, angular lines, reaching out to seize both ends of the canvas. In the center, his red-and-merlot-striped coat flared out from a narrow waist into a wide, haunting circus tent. Behind the tied-back flaps of the tent opening, there were depictions of shadow-like demons engulfed in a raging inferno, agonizingly wailing against orange-white necrofire. Long, needle-shaped black spikes sharpened to a lethal point shot out from within the tent. Two were each skewering a bloody, stitched-up head. Poised above the chaos and smiling portentously was an uncanny depiction of Alastor. His eyes were glowing yellow globes set in crude black outlines. Directly above, thick, jet-black, deer-like antlers sprouted from his crazed red-and-black strands of hair.

The painting evoked a great sense of fear and dread. 

‘ _What a way to welcome your guests,_ ’ Charlie thought sarcastically.

She further pondered over it. ' _Should I say something to him about it? This isn't a great image for the hotel... Then again, it's not like he'll be seeing clients directly in his office anyway. He's just a behind-the-scenes guy; Vaggie and I are the main staff who will be directly working with clients face-to-face._ '

' _...It's still very creepy though. Maybe next time I come in here I'll ask him to take it down._ '

Without turning around, Alastor forebodingly invited her in. “Well, if it isn’t my honorable guest ready for her big debut on the radio!” A cackling audience crackled to life from his radio staff. 

He finished straightening the painting to a perfect ninety-degree angle and walked to the front of his desk. Gracefully pulling out the tall-backed, plush burgundy chair from his desk, he beckoned to her. 

“Come, my darling. Sit.”

Charlie obeyed silently. She felt herself sink deeply into its cushioned seat. The back of the chair towered over her. She felt small.

Pleased with her obedience, Alastor continued. “You’re here early, Charlie.”

The dim light flickered and morphed into a scarlet hue. Charlie heard the door lock behind her.

“Aren’t you… scared? To be alone in my presence?” he breathed into her ear.

Charlie gulped. The atmosphere surrounding her was certainly out of a horror film, but she didn’t fear for her safety. While this man may be an overlord, he couldn’t hurt her. Not physically, at least. 

She summoned her inner demon to take form within her usually-angelic features. As she felt her eyes bleed to a rich crimson and her teeth sharpen into daggers, she stared back, unperturbed, at the crimson demon before her. Her ruby-red horns punctured the thin porcelain skin of her forehead, growing tall against her blonde tresses.

She forced herself up from within the deep cushions and sat boldly and elegantly upright. 

“No.” Her confident voice pierced the haunting atmosphere. “I know you won’t hurt me. Not yet at least.”

Alastor’s smirk widened. His breath was hot on her ear. The flesh of her lobe was so irresistibly near his mouth that he was tempted to bite it. But he refrained. “Oh? And what led you to that dangerous assumption?” 

“Instincts,” she breathed.

Charlie rose and turned to face him. Deciding to turn the tables on him, she put a hand on his shoulder and forced him into the chair she had previously been sitting in. Alastor abided, smitten by her sudden, powerful performance. 

Relishing in this sudden, intense moment between them, she goaded, “Are you afraid to be alone with **me**?” Her voice, usually sweet as honey, intensified into an inhuman pitch.

Alastor’s response was hesitant. “...No.”

My, how she surprised him left and right. So threatening her directly would not work. He crossed it from his mental list. He couldn’t tell if he felt disappointed or delighted. Everything was so new and of such high stakes in this latest game of his. It kept him on the edge of his toes. He felt so -- alive.

The lights eased back to a pleasant yellow glow.

“Ha ha! What a charming demon belle you are, Charlie. So fierce! Such lively energy! We’re live on the air in five. Would you like anything before we get started? Cup of tea? Coffee?”

“Tea would be nice, actually. What kind of tea do you have, Alastor?” she asked politely. All the wickedness formerly present had already drained from her features as if it had never been there at all.

“Whatever kind you like, my dear! Just name it, and it’s yours.”

“Well, in that case, a cup of peach-flavored green tea, please!” 

She beamed when the gold-tipped cup miraculously appeared atop a matching porcelain saucer. “Thanks, Al!” 

“Don’t mention it, my dear! Mere child’s play.”

Charlie stared at him curiously. “Alastor, do you magically blink all your stuff into existence? Your coffee? Your clothes? Your... hmmm… spare monocles for when yours gets cracked or dirty?”

He hummed merrily. “Hmm. No, yes, and -- why, how unabashedly rude! To think I would treat my precious monocle in such a careless manner as to need to replace it!”

Charlie laughed fervently at his over-the-top mannerisms. But she was still curious at the wide tricks and powers he had at his disposal. He could do so much. While she had undeniable raw power, she had found it immensely hard to shape and control. She couldn’t help but ask in a small voice, “...how do you do it?”

Alastor looked at her in interest, his left brow raised slightly higher than his right. He mulled over his possible responses, calculating which one would get him the most value. Finally, he selected one. 

“I could teach you, if you wish,” he offered in a low pitch.

Seconds passed by in silence. Suddenly, a loud _ding-ding-ding_ rang out. It was three-o-clock. Showtime. 

As soon as the dinging had started, Alastor had morphed into his radio host persona, fluidly switching roles with such ease that came only naturally after his many decades of practice. 

“A warm hello to our infernal ladies and gents tuning in! It’s your sweet Radio Demon, latest overlord in Hell, Alastor!” Cheers erupted from his staff. 

"But today, I'm here to talk to you about another entertaining venture of mine..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments below. I read each comment, even on older chapters.
> 
> Random thought for the readers:  
> Is anyone else here like  
> *reads smutty sex scene* _Oh, yesss~_  
>  *gets asked if they want sex* _Oh, nooo~_


	5. The Radio Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the disastrous televised interview with Katie Killjoy, Alastor gives Charlie another shot at an interview.

“But today, I’m here to talk to you about another entertaining venture of mine. As of yesterday, I officially joined Hell’s beloved princess, Miss Charlotte Magne, in her highly-idealistic quest for redeeming mortal souls.”

A rupture of gasps, ‘oohs,’ and ‘ahhs,’ were heard.

“Now, to answer the question I just _know_ you’re all silently asking yourselves:” He imitated his audience in an innocent, slightly higher-pitched voice, “ ‘Alastor, does this mean you think it’s possible to redeem a demon? Is - Is the infamous Radio Demon going _soft_?’”

Alastor paused a moment, reveling in the suspense he was building. 

“Ha! _No_ , you insipid fools. And I’ll prove it to the first knucklehead that dares utter such whacky nonsense in my presence.” His voice darkened. “With their bloody entrails spelling the word ‘No’ plainly for all to see! Ha! Wouldn’t that be a marvelous sight.

“But enough about me! We’re here to discuss the Happy Hotel. Miss Charlie, please inform our audience of all the reasons why they should check into your dreamy hotel.”

At the mention of the Happy Hotel, Charlie had begun bouncing energetically in her seat. She thought that she couldn’t get any more hyped than she already was, but then Alastor had signaled for her to gush about -- ahem, advertise -- it, and in such an enthusiastic tone! She was so, so, so-so-so-so, soooo ready. This was her chance! 

“Hii everyone!” her voice was glowing with eagerness. “Thank you all for tuning in! Now -- I _know_ my last appearance before you all didn’t go so well. But that’s okay, because I’m still here and you’re still here. And I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you! No matter what you’ve done, no matter how far you think you’ve fallen, I’ll always be here to catch you and stand you back up again! 

“You may think yourselves irredeemable, but that simply isn’t true. On Earth, each of you made choices every day. Some were bad, yes, and those actions landed you here, but some were good! You all did at least one good thing in life, and that just proves that you have good inside you! It’s there, and it’s waiting for you to act on it.”

“Now I also _know_ that doing the right thing can seem hard. My father did make sin rather tempting to mortals, haha! But that’s exactly why I opened up the Happy Hotel. It is a place designed to reduce temptations you might otherwise find yourself drawn to. Here, you can entirely focus on that inner good!”

She spoke rapidly and without break until she had no air left in her lungs. She took a quick inhale.

She took the stance of her listeners in a comical, slightly-deeper voice. “‘But Charlie,’ I hear some of you say, ‘why the hell would I want to be a better person? Hell has everything I want!’

“But you and I both know that’s not true. Think of your lovers, your family, your friends that are in Heaven, waiting for you to join them. Think of their unconditional love for you.

"Think of our yearly mass-executions due to our unsupported overpopulation. For mortals, the options are Heaven, Hell, or the Void, and you’ll end up in the Void if you’re killed on Execution Day. The Void is a terribly lonely place where you’ll feel nothing. You’ll see nothing, hear nothing, touch nothing. You’ll… be nothing.

“You may have survived one or more Execution Days, but don’t think yourself untouchable. Those Angels of Death are quite merciless, and once they set their sights on you, it’s over.”

She exhaled a solemn sigh. She hated talking about this part; she just wanted to focus on the positives. But Vaggie had convinced her that this was a more persuading argument for her people, sinners lulled in by temptation.

She was relieved when she could finally switch topics.

“Finally, being a good person _feels good_. Okay, it might not evoke the same pleasure as cocaine, or uh, other deadly addictions, but it makes your heart feel so warm and fluttery. And it gives you friends! Lovers! A place to call home! People that care deeply about you and genuinely love you,” she said with a smile.

“For these reasons, I implore you to consider checking into the Happy Hotel. I promise, you’re redeemable no matter what you’ve done. All mortals are redeemable. You all have good inside of you. Embrace it at the Happy Hotel. Seek rapture and Heaven’s pearly gates. It’s waiting for _you_.”

Alastor was greatly impressed by her heartfelt speech so much as to involuntarily and vigorously clap his gloved hands together. It was certainly a more convincing case than her previous attempt on the picture show. 

Her words had evoked strange feelings within him. _Your family is waiting for you in Heaven…_ Memories of his warm, doting mother, bless her heart, flooded his senses. 

He mercilessly killed the unwanted feeling.

Another thought surfaced based on a different part of her speech. _You’re redeemable no matter what you’ve done. All mortals are redeemable. You all have good inside of you._ Why did it feel like she was excluding herself from this delirious sentiment? Of all the beings he’d encountered in Hell, none had struck him even remotely as a ‘good person’ as much as the fair princess. Mortals had had their chance to be good while they were alive, and the beings that had winded in Hell had clearly failed. All the actual do-gooders had been sent to Heaven, leaving only the filth to rot in Hell. And they all deserved it, himself included. All of them... except her. 

He felt an entirely opposite notion to her sentiment. Mortal demons were evil, plain and simple. The lives they had led proved it. But she -- and she alone -- was like a fallen angel, a pure being meant for the heavens, but unfortunately born in Hell.

Her sentiments puzzled him. If what he was picking up on was true, then she held a large amount of self-hate.

He could use this to his advantage. He mentally added it to his arsenal. 

Alastor summoned his radio audience, which was, unknown to most, an actual, living assembly made up of poor souls that he had claimed over the years. With the undisputed power he held over them, he coerced them into an energetic applause. The oldest souls no longer resisted him, heedlessly obeying whatever whim he held like empty husks while the youngest souls still fought against him, straining for some starry-eyed salvation that would never come. He relished in their wasted efforts. 

“What a rousing speech! Truly a treat to hear such powerful words from such a mesmerizing voice. Next, we have a surprise guest for Charlie. Whoever could it be! Mystery guest, please introduce yourself!”

Charlie looked at Alastor, puzzled. She turned her head left and right to look around in the room. There was no one else, just her and Alastor alone in his office. 

A hesitant voice emerged from the radio, “He - hello there… My name is Gibson, and - and just today I checked into the Happy Hotel.” His voice sounded bleak. 

“Welcome, Gibby! Do tell us all what impassioned you to become the hotel’s latest patron! I’m sure _**you’re quite ecstatic to be here!**_ ”

The threatening tone in his voice went unheard by Charlie, who was simply marveled at the news. A new guest?! She hadn’t been informed of such wonderful news. She was so excited to meet this new resident.

‘ _Wow, five whole patrons!_ ’ she exclaimed wordlessly. ‘ _My dreams are finally becoming reality. Maybe… maybe I_ can _change my fate after all._ ’

Gibson’s voice could be heard emanating from the radio. “Yeah… Uh. Yeah!” he forced a cheery tone. “I saw Miss Char-,” he stumbled over her name, debating whether to call her Charlotte or Charlie, ”-lie? on the TV yesterday, and it made me feel... hopeful.”

He paused before continuing. “When I was first sent to Hell, I had felt so demoralized. So incredibly awful. I knew that I hadn’t been very kind in my life, but… well, I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess I was expecting there to be no after-life, to just one day die and be buried in the dirt and that be it, being an atheist and all that haha…

“Being sent to Hell was kinda a.. I don’t know. A wake up call? It felt like a dick move on God’s part. ‘Welp, that’s it, Gilbert! You had your chance. You’re a waste of space and a terrible person, and now you’re gonna suffer for all of eternity for being the piece of shit human you were,’ know what I mean? And everyone acted like that here, everyone confirmed this irate, doomed feeling I had. There was not an ounce of kindness, not a single drop of humanity in _any_ demon I met here. Until I saw Charlie.”

His voice had wavered throughout his monologue, but a sense of confidence arose when he spoke of Charlie. She was something else -- a true angel in a world of devils. 

“I don’t know if I can be redeemed. I don’t know if any of us can be. But Charlie believes in it, and, well, I guess that’s good enough for me. I _want_ it to be true. I’m tired of living in this shithole, getting mercilessly tread on and spat on and fucking tortured by a bunch of spiteful fuckers. I want to know what it’s like in Heaven.”

Alastor listened to his budding hope with such malevolent glee. Yes. Yes! That is what he had come to this hotel for. That deliciously delirious hope. He felt his mouth salivate as he thought of the upcoming months. His hopefulness slowly transfiguring into an absolute, never-ending despair as he eventually realized that he was irredeemable. That his soul was doomed.

Alastor licked his lips.

The air buzzed with the hoots and cheers from his radio audience. 

“Amazing! Truly amazing to hear such raw emotions evoked just for us. Now, you jolly, idealistic fellows listening in who feel similar to Mr. Gibson here, I beckon you to come on down to the Happy Hotel and check in today!”

His voice turned menacing as it mixed with jarring radio static. 

“I know who you are.

“I can see _each_ and _every_ one of you pathetic sinners through the very radio you’re hearing this from. The moment you tuned in, your fate was decided.

“Samir,” he hissed.

“Felicity.”

With each name, Alastor’s voice became more warped. 

“Micah.

“Especially you, Karen.

“ _Do come. You won’t enjoy the **consequences** if you refuse_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave a comment below if so inclined. I read each comment, even on older chapters~
> 
> Stay tuned for more.


	6. Dealings with a Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor seals his first deal with Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darlings, I think I may have spoiled you too much. 20k words in 10 days. I may hold out longer this time on posting the next chapter. 
> 
> Need to hear your lovely voices crying out for more.

Charlie beamed at Alastor, enthralled. All bitter thoughts and feelings from her earlier argument with Vaggie had completely dissipated, leaving not a single trace behind.

She rapidly shot up from the burgundy chair and nearly crawled over his mahogany desk, trying to shake his hand in thanks.

“Alastorr!” she loudly sang his name in the same way a little child would greet a puppy. “Thank you, thank you-thank you. Thaaank you so much!”

Seeing her intention to touch him, Alastor tilted back until he was just out of reach. With his feet on the floor and his posterior leaning back, his body made a comical near two-hundred-and-twenty-five degree angle.

Charlie stretched her arms out as far as she could reach, her arms bobbing slightly up and down. She tried to clutch his hand, but she could not. Sensing that he did not want to be touched, she flushed with embarrassment and timidly lowered her hands.

“Oh.. you don’t like being touched? But in my office --” she meandered, puzzled. As the realization gripped her, her eyebrows shot up, her eyes opening as widely as they could go. Back in her office, he must not have moved his hand away because he was distressed. “Ah! I’m so sorry, Alastor, I didn’t realize!”

The expression on his face was unreadable as he considered the situation.

On the one hand, she was right. He _did_ not like contact that he himself had not initiated. On the other hand, he more fervently disliked that face that she was now looking up at him with. She looked at him like he was weak, yet there was no contempt nor malintent behind it. He examined her features, incredulous. He couldn’t recall a single time when anyone had made such a face at him.

He chose the lesser of the two evils and leaned back within reach. When she did not immediately finally grab his hand, he hesitantly reached out until his hand was inches away from her, his black-gloved palm facing upward.

“Heavens, no, my dear! I’m simply not used to it. Most avoid shaking hands with a deal maker,” he joked, deftly hiding his discomfort.

Charlie beamed at him with a wide smile. Alastor much preferred that face on her, he noted silently. It reminded him of the way his darling little Niffty looked at him, though there was something more.

She gave his hand a soft squeeze. The contact was oddly pleasant. When she removed her hand, his own felt cold, missing her warmth.

She gasped, suddenly remembering something. “Alastor! Is Gibson really a new guest at the Happy Hotel? Is he here?” Her voice was fast and giddy. Her body bobbed as she bounced on the tips of her feet.

“Why, of course, my dear! Forgive my rudeness for not introducing the two of you sooner. Come!” He beckoned her out of his office. 

Together, they went to the hotel’s elevator and rode it to the third floor. Then, Alastor led her in front of a closed door. He knocked firmly with an underlying rhythm.

“Oh Gibson, my boy! It’s time for you to meet the wonderful, much esteemed owner of this establishment and officially check in.”

So long as that menace was at the door, Gibson did not wish to open it. But then he thought of the brave, radiant woman he had seen on the television yesterday and had heard on the radio today. He found her absolutely magnificent, and he did not want to disappoint her.

The door opened. The tall, crimson demon and angelic beauty looked at the blue goat-demon, and he looked back at them. 

“Hi. I’m Gibson,” he greeted flatly. 

He should have tensed his body because he was suddenly plowed through and nearly knocked over. He thought his arm was going to be torn from his body as it was violently shaken up and down.

“Charlie!” the blonde demoness introduced herself merrily in response. “Oh, you cannot believe how happy I am to meet you! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are our fifth guest! Ahh! We’re taking off!”

Alastor chuckled, amused. In a playful tone, he cautioned, “Charlie, you may want to be a bit less energetic towards our new guest. I think you might rip his arm right off with all that enthusiasm! Oh ho, now wouldn’t that be a sight to behold.”

Charlie immediately froze, horrified with her rash actions. “Ahh! I’m so sorry, Gibson. I forget my strength sometimes…” her voice faltered until the words were barely audible.

Gibson didn’t want to see that shimmering light leave her starry eyes. “No, no, it’s okay! I’m fine, see? I’m better than fine, actually, thanks to you, Charlie,” he smiled at her.

Charlie felt happiness well up from inside her and begin to overflow. This was it. This was her way to help her people. Finally, she had found it after centuries of trying and failing.

She smiled back at Gibson. “I’m so glad to hear that! And I could say the same to you. It really is so nice to see you here, Gibson, and I hope you’ll enjoy your stay at the Happy Hotel. If you’re not doing anything, could you please come with me to my office? We just need to get some paperwork sorted out, and then you’ll be good to go.”

Alastor glanced between the two hopefully optimistic fools. Deciding there was nothing more for him to do nor see here, he dismissed himself. “Well, looks like I’m all done here. Take care, and have yourselves a wonderful evening. Cheers!” Dipping from the waist courteously, he turned and walked away in long, elegant strides.

Gibson nodded at Charlie and let himself be led back to her office. 

\---

Charlie shuffled through a couple papers on her desk, thumbing them with rapid speed.

“Hmm no, not this, nope. Aha!” she declared with gusto while raising a stapled packet into the air within her white-gloved, petite fist.

The paperwork was brief and promptly completed. Gibson felt relieved to see no shady strings or clauses.

 _Looks like this hotel is genuine after all… Who would’ve thought there’d be a welcome respite in Hell. And a heavenly being as well._ Gibson glanced at Charlie from the sides of his eyes while pretending to still read over the fine print, trying to have his peeping go unnoticed.

He admired her fiercely. Her very existence was paradoxical, an angel in Hell. And yet here she was trying to help others like his undeserving ass get into Heaven instead of herself.

A question dawned suddenly. “Miss Charlie, have you helped demons before?” he asked quizzically, his expression turning from one of admiration to bewilderment.

She hummed in thought, a black pen tapping her chin. “Hmm well, our first client’s Angel Dust, who checked in about two weeks ago. I’m trying to help him the best I can, but he’s not taking it very seriously yet, and I don’t want to push him. I think he just needs a little bit of time is all though! After all, he’s been in Hell nearly a century now. It must be hard to suddenly change so much about yourself in such a short time.”

“That’s, uh, great, but that’s not what I meant. You’ve been here, like, much longer right?”

“Well I was born here in Hell in the human year 929, so yes, I would say I’ve been here quite a while.” She chuckled lightly. Charlie didn’t know where he was going with this conversation, but she didn’t mind it. 

His orange eyes widened in shock, eyebrows reaching to touch his curly hairline. _Holy shit that’s a long-ass time._ He felt his admiration for her grow. He’d only been here two days, and he was already willing to throw any random stranger under the bus if it meant he’d have an easier day. He didn’t feel much empathy given the fact that they were all shitty people and willing to do the same to him. He didn’t feel much morality at all. 

Maybe more than just his body had been demonically transformed upon his arrival to Hell.

But Charlie was like a beacon to him. Her light told him there was another way, and he wanted to find it and embrace it with her.

Still, his puzzlement grew, and he seeked clarification. “Okay, so in that millennium, you’ve been like this right? Trying to help people? Trying to do the right thing? Why… are you still here? If redemption is possible, then shouldn’t you already be in Heaven by now?”

Charlie looked at him with sorrowful eyes and a pained expression. “I -” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, “It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid. I was born here. I’m a natural Hell-formed being, not like you mortal demons. I’m…” her eyes glanced downward, her expression hidden from him, “I’m not allowed in Heaven.”

If there was a way to take back what he had just carelessly said, he fervently prayed to whatever higher power there was. 

But there was no such method. He cursed under his breath. “Fuck.. Charlie, I’m so sorry. That was so fucking stupid of me to ask. Please, forget I said it.”

Not wanting to ruin anything else, he quickly turned to leave. She’d given him so much. New hope. A place to stay. She’d believed in him, and he’d messed it up spectacularly. It was obvious to him now why he was in Hell. Maybe he was an irredeemable, awful soul.

But Charlie didn’t let him leave. She recognized the burning self-hatred in his eyes, a feeling too familiar to her. She quickly ran to the door and spread her arms wide on either side of her, blocking his path.

“It’s okay, Gibson! Really, I’m fine! Don’t worry about it, we all make mistakes. Just think about roughly thirty minutes ago, when I accidentally nearly ripped your arm clean off.” She shot a small smile at him. 

She looked him in the eyes fiercely, and it was more than he could handle. He cast his gaze downwards, unable to face her brilliance.

Charlie quickly churned through different ideas on how to make him feel better in her head, not wanting him to leave until that awful look had faded from his bright, carrot eyes.

“We’re not done yet! You still -” an idea popped in her head. “You still need a tour of the hotel! It’s a mandatory part of checking in,” she declared in an official manner, hoping he bought her lie. She raised a gloved finger in the air and waged it at him, hoping it made her statement seem more official.

Gibson drooped, his five-foot frame shrinking even smaller. “Oh,” was all he said in a soft, glum voice. “Please, lead the way then. Again, I’m very sorry, Charlie.”

“It’s fine!” she persisted. She pointed out the communal kitchen before leading him down to the hotel lobby, looking for some fellow residents to introduce him to. “Really, compared to most demons I’ve met you’re really sweet! You haven’t been here long have you.” It was more of a statement than a question.

He felt himself loosening up as he trailed behind her. He still felt guilt-ridden, but he decided he would try to make it up to her. Basking in guilt would only be counter-productive, he rationalized.

She led him to the bar. Four figures grew larger as they neared. 

“No,” he affirmed, “I just died two days ago.”

“What?!” Charlie sputtered. “How did you manage to survive Extermination Day? Most new souls get wiped out, unfortunately…” 

Finally at the bar, they stopped. Charlie sat down on a barstool and motioned for him to take the remaining free one between her and Angel Dust.

“Would you like something to drink?” Charlie offered. “We have more than just alcohol. Like juice! Husk makes a mean carrot-pineapple juice, if you ask me.”

“Heya, toots!” Angel greeted Charlie with a friendly, drunken smile. “Heard your shtick on the radio today. You killed it!” He raised two pairs of hands to clap with fervid energy. 

His black-filled eye turned to glance at Gibson.

“Oh? And who’s this cutie pie?” Angel sent Gibson a flirtatious smile and gave him a playful wink. “Heya handsome. Are you the new guy? Gib…” he stumbled to remember the name in his drunken stupor. “Gibby? Gibster? Gibeon?”

“Gibson,” the blue goat-demon offered. He thought about sticking out his arm for a polite handshake, but thought better of it. “I take it you’re Angel Dust. Nice to meet you.” He gave him a tight smile out of courtesy. 

“Yeah I’m Angel, but you can call me whatever you want, babe.”

Gibson turned to look at Charlie, his eyes clearly pleading for help. Then, he remembered what she said and decided it was a good enough topic-changer.

“About this ‘Extermination Day’...” he inquired, “What exactly is it? I keep hearing about it, and it doesn’t sound good.”

The silver-haired demoness who had been isolated in a far recliner suddenly bolted up.

“WHAT?” Vaggie yelled. “Did you, like, just get here? Extermination day was only two days ago!”

Gibson looked at her sheepishly, startled by her deafening tone. He tugged timidly at his left sleeve. “Uh, yeah… My first day in Hell happened to be the day Charlie was advertising this hotel on TV.”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look at him.

Husk hollered wildly, “Ha! What a lucky bastard you are. Why, if you had died just hours earlier, you’d be in that godforsaken void now, deader than dead. Now you get a whole year before you have to experience that horror. With that kinda luck, you should try your hand at gambling.”

Niffty scrutinized the new man silently, her colossal, lone cyclops eye staring at him in an unblinking fashion. ‘ _Nope,_ ’ she determined, crossing him off her long list of potential bachelors. 

Wanting to be helpful, Charlie tried to offer him an explanation. She didn’t realize how solemn it would make her feel. “Extermination Day is a tragic event that occurs once every three-sixty-five days. Hell is unfortunately overcrowded, and my dad doesn’t have enough power to host any more souls… So on Extermination Day, the Angels of Death come down from Heaven to cull my people and send them to the Void. It’s one of the few ways to actually ‘die’ in Hell, if you can call it that.”

She paused, and the room was silent.

“It’s why I opened this hotel. I hate seeing my people suffer, and Extermination Day is about as bad as it gets. They slaughter billions in just one single day. I wanted to find a better way to solve our overpopulation problem. I thought, ‘if Hell’s too crowded, then let’s send mortals to Heaven! Let them live out their afterlife in happiness, not in the vacuous, unfeeling emptiness that is the Void.’”

Charlie sunk into her seat.

Gibson felt absolutely mortified. ‘ _Great_ ,’ he remarked sarcastically, ‘ _Just fucking great, Gibson, you did it again. You fucking worthless piece of shit. You made the one nice person in all of Hell feel like crap again._ ’ 

Wanting to get out of here for real this time, he faked a yawn. “Well, looks like I’m pooped! Thanks Charlie, and nice meeting you guys. Charlie, if you still wanted to give me the full tour, perhaps we can do it another day, but really I think I’m good. Bar and hotel lobby, ground floor. Communal kitchen and offices, second floor. Rooms, third floor and up. Yep! I think I’m good. Anyway, goodnight.” He strode off before anyone could offer a response.

“Ain’t he a cutie. And so innocent, damn do I love them innocent. Wonder which way he swings; not like anyone can resist _this_ smokin’ body though.” With his four pink-gloved hands, Angel gestured suggestively at his body, especially highlighting his curves.

\---

When Charlie woke up the next day, her first thought was of Alastor. His half-lidded, smouldering gaze. His gentlemanly disposition. The way he smartly dressed himself at all times. His amusing, highly-animated gestures that accompanied his every word. His musically-inclined voice when he had sung and danced with her. She couldn’t help but smile as she dreamily pictured him in her head.

She pulled at her hair. ‘ _Ah! Charlie, you’re in a relationship already! And Vaggie loves you!_ ’ she wordlessly scolded herself, but she felt empty. 

Vaggie was nice. Sweet really, but Charlie didn’t feel any lustful inclinations towards her. She thought that would change as their relationship developed, and so she had accepted when Vaggie had asked her out. But she still saw Vaggie more as a sister than anything else. They cuddled, and that was it. Twice, Vaggie had asked her if she wanted to go further, but Charlie had rejected her offer both times. Vaggie respectfully took the hint and stopped asking, waiting for Charlie to initiate with her when she was ready.

Charlie wanted to love Vaggie that way. She really did. And she had tried, but she just couldn’t. She’d had girlfriends in the past that she’d been sexually attracted to, so it clearly wasn’t her gender. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem like it was going away. Charlie couldn’t force herself to see Vaggie that way.

And yet, she had been attracted to Alastor the moment she'd laid eyes on him that fateful day, him knocking outside on her hotel's main door. God, he was sinfully gorgeous. And she had to admit, the way he carried himself so powerfully, unwilling to take anyone’s bullshit, was awfully attractive. It stirred a heat within her. A heat she was trying to ignore. 

They very clearly would not work out. For one, he was a repentless sinner who saw everything she was trying to accomplish as a hysterical joke. For two, she knew she couldn’t trust him. She had to keep her wits about her whenever she was with him, drilling it into him that she was Lucifer’s daughter, and that while she might allow many to laugh at her expense since she'd rather be seen as naive than monstrous, she would not be taken for a fool. 

As she thought of him, she remembered their last conversation. His tempting offer floated to the top of her mind. _'I could teach you, if you wish_ ' was what he had said when she’d asked him about how he so easily manipulated his magic.

Perhaps she would take him up on his offer…

\---

Before she could talk herself out of it, she resolutely opened his door and strode into his office. Alastor was dutifully behind his desk, working on a stack of papers.

His gaze flicked to the sudden intrusion. “Charlie my dear, good morning! I don’t believe we had an appointment,” he jested.

“Alastor, were you being serious when you offered to teach me how to control my magic?”

His gaze became intense as he seriously studied her. He hummed in thought, “Hmm, I thought you didn’t like using your powers. Scared of intimidating lowly weak demons and all that.”

She folded her arms, her determination unwavering. “You’re right, I don’t like intimidating others, and that’s why I’ve often restrained myself from manifesting my inner demon and powers. But that’s exactly why I want to learn how to control my powers and use them with more finesse - like you. You’re capable of great destruction. You can slaughter hundreds, summon dozens of eldritch tentacles, heck, you’re probably even more powerful than you let on, and yet you flippantly use your powers for small tasks in everyday life.”

“Millions, my dear, but that’s besides the point,” he offered. His smile was stretched from ear to ear in plain delight. He was obviously enjoying this talk with Hell’s princess.

“What do you -” 

“What’s in it for me, Charlie?” he pressed darkly, interrupting her question.

“What?” Charlie asked, bewildered.

“I don’t much like doing things as favors. Often rubs me the wrong way. You want me to teach you how to control your powers. Fine, that’s easy as pie. But what will you give me in return?” He tidied the stack of papers and clicked the cap on his pen before pushing out from his desk. He stood and strolled over to her, towering above her.

“Oh… Well, what do you want?” 

Alastor’s scarlet eyes gleamed as he thought of the possibilities. Her soul. Her contractual raw power. Information concerning her father’s weaknesses. Her… But no. He couldn’t ask for such lofty payments yet; she wasn’t in a desperate enough position yet.

His smile shifted into a malevolent smirk. He’d play an amusing game with her and see what she thought his help was worth. 

Little did she know he would gladly do this for very little. After all, he was very interested in seeing more of her powers manifest, and it filled him with an overwhelming, sadistic glee to be able to personally guide her, to subtly corrupt this false angelic being and wholly transform her into the calamitous demoness he saw lurking within her.

“Hmm, no I think I’ll have you decide what you want to offer me. That’s much more entertaining, my dear,” he quipped with half-lidded eyes.

Charlie mulled it over. What could she possibly give this self-reliant man in return…

She reviewed his interests. Above all, Alastor seemed to enjoy entertainment. Perhaps she could show him some modern entertainment? The horror-mystery slasher film _American Psycho_ flashed in her mind. But no, knowing his disdain for technological innovations after his death, he’d probably despise it. 

He liked cooking. Perhaps they could cook something new together? Or she could cook something for him? Charlie frowned at the idea. Food in exchange for teaching her how to manifest her powers with more precision? The deal hardly seemed fair.

She could open a portal to the mortal world for him, and she knew he’d greatly enjoy that, but a sickening feeling proliferated her gut when she thought of the evils he would do there.

Out of ideas, she circled back to the first one. Couldn’t hurt to at least give it a try.

“Wellll, I know how much you like entertainment, and there happens to be this film I know of that has a main character you might like! He’s a serial killer like you, and the film showcases him killing his victims in bloody, murderous glee, but there’s also a twist at the end that makes you think.”

Alastor didn’t find the idea incredibly tempting. He envisioned it in his head, a movie night with Charlie watching a boorish, modern picture show.

For some reason, the idea of being alone with Charlie for a whole two hours made his heart race. 

Oh, he wanted so much more. But for now, he supposed he’d settle and get to know the heiress better as well as this weird feeling he felt whenever he was in her presence. 

Having decided, he pretended to continue pondering over it, “Hm. In exchange for unlocking the bottomless powers festering within you, with which you could absolutely devastate me or wreck any future plans of mine, you want to show me a crummy modern picture show.”

Charlie groaned inwardly. She had already known it was a bad idea, but hearing the insignificant way he put it made her feel even worse. She began thinking over other, more enticing offerings when she noticed a green hue infecting the air around her.

He playfully threw his hands in the air, as if dumbfounded. “Well, you certainly drive a hard bargain!” he joked. He stoutly poised his arm out in front of him, signalling for her to shake hands with him. The green light shone brightly within his palm. “Do we have a deal, then, Miss Charlotte?” 

Charlie was, in fact, dumbfounded. She looked at him skeptically. “Just to be clear, this deal is just that? I show you _American Psycho_ and you teach me how to control my powers?” 

Alastor chuckled. “Ah, a clever one, are we, darling? Outlining the terms in clear wording, well, the devil’s in the details after all. Ha! Very well. 

“Here are the terms of the deal, Charlotte. Listen closely; I will not repeat myself. I will teach you how to manifest objects out of thin air, much like this-” he snapped, and suddenly there was a porcelain tea cup. “Cup of tea, darling? It’s what you asked for yesterday, peach-flavored green tea.”

She gazed at the suddenly-materialized cup in wonder before gratefully reaching out to grab it from him. She dipped her pinkie finger in to test the temperature. Finding it perfect, she took a steady sip. Mmm, delicious tea flooded her mouth, warming her up.

Alastor continued, “And in return, you will watch this so-called horror film, _American Psycho_ , with me in my private quarters here at the hotel for its entire runtime. Deadline to fulfill the terms outlined is one week. Shake my hand to seal the deal.”

Charlie looked again at his still-radiating palm. The air was swirling around them like a minor whirlwind. 

The terms seemed too good to be true. She thought back to this morning, and how she’d been dreamily imaging him. To be honest, this deal seemed like a win-win for her; spending time with her current infatuation and learning how to use her powers. There was no downside at all.

Still, taking her father’s words to heart, she pressed, “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“No hidden clauses?”

“None whatsoever.”

She hesitantly reached forward, her fingers twitching.

She grabbed his palm within hers. Upon contact, she felt a bizarre energy coarse it’s way into her hand, up her arm, and spread throughout her body. She felt binded by invisible chains.

Alastor revelled in the power, however slight, he now held over her. To seal a deal with such a mighty being... The overwhelming feeling of pure euphoria left him light-headed. He greedily wanted more. 

He flashed her a polite smile. “The contract is sealed, my dear. When do you want to start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh this chapter left me giddy for some reason. Let me know what you thought in the comments below~
> 
> Also yaay we hit 1k hits! First milestone achieved :D Thanks to everyone who's read this and enjoyed the journey so far. I'm happy to see my writing being read. 
> 
> Random, comical plea:  
> Help. What are sentences? Now all I see is _Noun blanked blankily. Prepositional phrase, noun blanked, blanking description._


	7. Fresh Meat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether drawn in by hope or by threat, new sinners flock to the Happy Hotel.

_"The contract is sealed, my dear. When do you want to start?”_

Those words reverberated pleasantly in her head, echoing over and over again.

With hazy, half-lidded eyes, Charlie peered down at her small, white-gloved hand, and was shocked to see it still entwined with Alastor's. As always, his fingers were encased in fine, scarlet-tipped black cloth. 

His touch was so soothing against her. So powerful. So firm. She wished she could strip his hands of their gloves and feel his bare skin graze against her own. 

She felt far away, her mind in a daze. She heard her voice whisper in a faint voice, "Your touch is like satan," but she felt the words did not belong to her.

"I think you mean satin, dear, but I'll take the compliment nonetheless." 

She heard him chuckle - a deep, reverberating sound that caressed her ears.

Charlie wanted to tell him _now_. She wanted to start her training with him immediately. She cherished his presence more than anything else right now, and she had to admit that being able to poof things in and out of existence with a simple gesture, especially if she could do so without the full manifestation of her inner demon, sounded extremely useful.

But then she heard a loud, unrelenting knocking coming from downstairs. The jarring noise woke her from her haze, suddenly and roughly, as if someone had shook her shoulders vigorously. She excused herself and quickly made her way down the stairs, too excited to wait for the elevator. She pushed her delusional thoughts of Alastor out of her mind and focused wholeheartedly on whatever new presence was waiting outside her hotel.

She opened the large double-doors and felt her mouth drop in shock. Waiting outside the doors was a surprising, small crowd of twenty or so demons.

_Ohmigosh. This is the best day ever!_ A wide smile on her face, she pushed the double-doors fully open and stuck the door-stoppers in place. 

“Welcome! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! Please, come in!” she gestured wildly, beckoning the crowd in.

They poured into the lobby, a cacophony of mutterings disturbing the once-quiet space.

Husk peered at the crowd suspiciously from his bar. “The fuck?” Surely there weren't this many demons dense enough to believe in redemption. What the hell was going on here...

One nimble demoness, a vividly-purple, catlike creature, appeared swiftly beside Charlie.

“Princesss,” she hissed through narrow lips. Her eyes darted from one way to the next as if scanning for someone.

Seemingly satisfied, she continued in a low voice, “I need to sspeak with you. Privately.”

Charlie jumped from the sudden presence beside her, not having seen her slip her way seamlessly through the crowd. She turned to face the cat-demoness with a happy expression.

“Of course! Will you be checking into the Happy Hotel today? I can get the paperwork immediately for you, oh I’m so excited-”

A furry claw secured her lips. “Sssh. No, I am not interested in such silly dreams. Don’t make me laugh. I come here seeking amnesty from that radio fiend you have working for you.”

Charlie scrunched her brows. “What do you mean? Did he threaten you?!” 

“Yesss, he’s threatened all of us! I don’t know what’s caught his fickle, dangerous attention here and I certainly don’t want to stick around long enough to find out. Please, if you’re as good as you say you are, then as the daughter of Lucifer, grant me safety from his nefarious clutches.”

Before Charlie could respond, a new, insidious aura joined them. From within the murky black, elongated shadows cast from their feet, a tall, dark crimson demon arose, towering over the two demonesses. His face was shrouded, but a sinister expression could just barely be made out. He stretched his arms out long, seizing and claiming the space around him as his, before wrapping them tightly around each of their shoulders. Then, he seemingly decided better and moved his left claw to wrap around the cat-demoness’ thin neck, his sharp nails nicking it slightly. 

“My dear Felicity, how nice of you to join us! I wasn’t expecting your charming companionship so soon,” Alastor proclaimed in a sinfully sweet voice.

Charlie turned to him with a hard glare in her eyes. “Alastor! She said you’re _threatening_ them. Is this true?”

Alastor scoffed, waving his long arm in the air. “Heavens, no, Charlie! What folly fabrication. A mere misconception! Why, I am trying as hard as you to get this project lifted off the ground! I would never even _think_ to do anything that would taint the image of this lovely hotel you’re running.”

On the floor beneath them, his shadow contorted, taking a shape of its own, and leapt to Felicity’s. It strangled the she-demon’s shadow in a tight hold, and Felicity found herself unable to move. Her stomach knotted itself in thick, entangling coils and a deep panic settled over her.

“Our dear Felicity here is simply one for theatrical language. Ah, I do _so_ enjoy her company and banter! We go way back. Isn’t that right, _Felicity_?”

She felt the hold on her neck tighten. His claws pierced her skin painfully.

“...Yes. Sssorry, Charlie. I just wanted to play a small joke on you. Thank you for opening your hotel to us sinners. You're... too kind.” Her voice was small, yet there was a slight, sardonic sting to the last of her words. 

Charlie's eyes glanced over at the crowd that had gathered in her lobby, who in turn were now each looking at Alastor, a petrified expression of fear on their faces.

“Hi! - Are you all… here to check into the Happy Hotel?” Charlie asked hesitantly.

One by one, the demons slowly nodded in answer, still looking over at the towering, crimson demon glued to her side. 

Charlie, too overwhelmed at the many new guests before her, did not notice their looks of terror. Instead, she sighed in nervous relief. 

“Great!” she beamed. “There’s so many of you. Let me just get Vaggie, and then we can start checking you all in! You are going to love it here!”

Charlie turned away from her guests and skipped to the hotel’s elevator. She hummed merrily as she pressed the button for the seventh floor.

As the heavy, metal elevator doors closed and divided the good-natured princess from them, the demons felt their one chance at escape leave. They stared at Alastor in wide, unblinking eyes, not for one moment taking their eyes off the murderous monster before them.

“Now it seems to me that some of you have _**forgotten your manners**_. Allow me to firmly bash them into those thick skulls of yours lest any of you forget them again,” he chuckled darkly at the amusingly violent thought as he pictured it vividly in his ever-imaginative head. “While you are here, I expect you all to be on your best behavior.” His voice was announcer-like, loud and full of charm and confidence. But with his next sentence, his voice morphed into a low, threatening whisper. “And our dear little Felicity here just ruined that for all of you. I expect you know what’s coming next,” he hissed.

A sudden, overpowering pressure full of menace forced the demons to the ground, first halfway onto their knees before forcing them to fully lay down against the shaggy merlot carpeting. They could not fight it. The strength was too overwhelming, too perverse, too fatal. They strained their heads to tilt up against the vile force, trying not to lose sight of their assailant.

It was harrowing. They knew they could not go against the will of such a being. They counted as the seconds ticked by and hoped the torment would end there, themselves shamefully and thoroughly beaten into submission. But then they felt their blood begin to boil, cooking them alive from the inside. The pain was absolute and excruciating. They wanted to scream out in agony, but could not find their voices. Only low whimpers emerged.

Alastor summoned the symbol of his far-reaching power, his grand, inauspicious staff, within his firm, black-gloved grip. Taking small steps, he strolled over to the crowd with ominous deliberation, twirling the rod of his staff between his fingers with acute precision. He stopped before the cat-demoness who had dared speak out against him. Her delicate face, marked by regret and torment, lay in front of his sleek black dress shoes. 

“Now, while you all _undoubtedly_ would have made the same pitiful mistake as our dear Felicity just did, I will allow you a chance to reflect on the consequences of such actions and choose a better path. This quaint hotel, after all, does boast the idea of redemption - a chance for you loathsome, wholly undeserving sinners to be something more than the sniveling, treacherous, good-for-nothing worms that you clearly are.”

He took another domineering step forward, the crimson-lined bottom outsole of his pointed shoe resting firmly against Felicity’s fuzzy head.

“I expect you all to make good on my merciful, genteel decision. Only the outspoken sinner will be disciplined further.”

He swept his foot in a smooth, graceful arc around him. Still attached to his heel was the bloody, bodiless head of Felicity. 

Sinuous, pitch-black tentacles crept up from his shadow, murky in form and oozing black liquid. They launched at the beheaded she-demon with pointed, sharp tips, piercing her body in dozens of spots before wrapping around her tightly. They dragged her lifeless body into his shadow. Her form faded into the black shadows before they, too, vanished. 

Alastor snapped, and the crushing force over the crowd suddenly dissipated. 

“Do not disappoint me,” he warned, his voice low and full of menace. “Now straighten up, we have guests rapidly approaching. You don’t want to end up like her, do you?” His gaze was intense. Ferocious, bloodthirsty slits-for-eyes glared at the pitiful crowd before him in a deep red hue.

The soft chime of the elevator doors opening echoed throughout the lobby. The utterly unnerved demons quickly gathered themselves. Charlie and Vaggie moseyed towards the crowd, a stack of papers in hand, chatting about something that few could hear.

“Really? A crowd of demons? At our hotel?... Why?” came Vaggie’s untrusting voice. Each word was quick and cutting.

“I don’t know, Vaggie, but isn’t it great! Maybe they heard the interview on the radio. I think I was really convincing this time!” Charlie gleefully answered.

Vaggie groaned. Her single, peach-like eye flicked over to the crowd before them.

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying…” Vaggie murmured under her breath. She cleared her throat. “Ahem. Welcome to the Happy Hotel. I’m Vaggie, Charlie’s assistant. I’ll check in half of you. Please follow me over here to the reception desk.” Her tone was none-too-friendly and full of skepticism. 

“And I’ll take the rest of you!” Charlie jovially called out. “Let’s circle around this big table over here, and I’ll pass out the paperwork!”

With the new guests, Charlie’s hotel had suddenly ballooned in size, growing to a whopping thirty-one total residents if the staff and herself were included. The day passed quickly for her as she tirelessly helped each demon with the paperwork and any remaining questions. When she was finally done and each new resident had been tended to, she peeked at the clock. Five-forty. It was already evening.

Charlie rubbed her tired eyes. She looked over at her girlfriend, who had moved to a nearby recliner and was snoozing peacefully.

“Isn’t this great, Vaggie? The hotel’s a great success! I can’t wait till Mother and Father hear the news. They’ll be so happy for me!”

Vaggie cracked her eye open to look at her charming, ever-optimistic girlfriend. “Yeah… It’s great… But isn’t it strange?” she queried.

“What do you mean?” Charlie asked innocently.

“I mean, think about it! We’ve been trying to get this hotel running for two weeks, and the only reaction we've gotten so far is ridicule and mocking remarks. Then _he_ shows up, and now it’s just all working out? Demons just want to be redeemed all of a sudden? I don’t buy it. He’s planning something, and I bet these new demons are in on it, or at least unknowingly participating in it.”

“Why does _that_ have to be your interpretation of it, Vaggie? We've worked so hard, and we’re finally getting through to them! Why can’t you believe that they want to be redeemed? Did you… Did you think that nobody would ever show up?” Tears welled in Charlie’s eyes. Her voice croaked. “Did you never believe in my cause?” 

Vaggie floundered, her black lips pressed hard against each other in a thin line as she thought of her next line carefully. She had been spewing the first thing that had come to mind, angry that Charlie had not been listening to her warnings at all these past few days. 

But the teary look on Charlie’s face hurt Vaggie deeper than a million daggers piercing her body simultaneously. 

Charlie deserved better than her. What kind of lover had she been, carelessly going along with Charlie’s hopes and dreams and not for a moment seriously believing in a single one of them.

“...No. I believe in you, and the good you could do,” Vaggie started.

Charlie looked up at her, wiping at the watery tears that blurred her vision. She silently waited for her girlfriend to continue, knowing her statement was unfinished.

“But I cannot believe in these wretched demons. I did not believe for a second that they could willingly change. You’re too good for them, too good for all of us! I thought your plan would never work, but I went along with it because I knew it would make you happy.”

Charlie was silent. She felt a large part of her shatter with Vaggie’s confession. Her heart ached. She looked inside herself for something to hold onto, something to cling to, anything, and she found it. 

Blistering, red-hot anger. 

Her eyes, once soft and milky white, bled to menacing, scarlet expanses. In the middle were narrow, yellow snake-like irises and pupils. Her horns raised magnificently, and her teeth zig-zagged into sharp, unescapable points.

“ _ **Get out.**_ ”

Vaggie flinched back, nearly falling. “W-what?”

Menace oozed from every fiber of Charlie’s being. Her voice was scratchy and infernal. “I said _**get out.**_ If you have never believed in my cause, never believed in my hotel, then I don’t want to see you in it! You don’t belong here. Get out!”

Impatient and blinded by a hot, seething rage, Charlie harshly picked up the silver-haired demoness within her sharp claws and explosively threw her out the doors. The large double-doors forcefully opened from her brute strength, and Vaggie cried out in pain as she fell to the hard cement ground outside. 

Without another glance at the deceitful traitor, Charlie climbed up the stairs to Alastor’s office with thunderous, mighty stomps. She blasted the door open. 

“Teach me,” she demanded. Her voice was still callous and full of rage.

Alastor merely stared at her, stunned. He felt his ever-composed smile open slightly, mouth agape. His plans were proceeding quicker than planned, and he would do well to act on them, but in that moment, all he could do was drink in her beauty. She was a fierce, raging inferno set on its path of destruction. Her voice sang out to him like the sweetest lullaby. 

“Teach me how to control my powers, Alastor. I don’t want to be at the whim of such vile emotions!”

And with such sickeningly-sweet tones, she had called out to _him_. She’d come to _him_ in this beautiful, metamorphized state. He didn’t think he could feel more elated than how he felt in that moment. Everything about her called to him. Within himself, he felt a tumultuous tornado of emotions fighting viciously for dominance. 

A weird impulse urged him to comfort her, to cradle her in his strong, inescapable arms and rock her tenderly until a calmness settled over her. 

But he would not - nay - could not ignore such tempting, forceful demands from this cruel goddess. He arose swiftly from his desk and came to stand in front of her. He held out his elbow, beckoning her to take hold.

“Very well, my commanding princess. Grab hold of me, and I shall take us to a place more fitting to train.”

No sooner had she grabbed onto his sleeve than she had felt the room spin before her eyes. It was dizzying. She gripped tighter onto his lanky arm, causing his relentless grin to widen in selfish satisfaction.

“Welcome, my darling Charlotte, to one of the loneliest places in all of Hell. Not a soul for miles. Scream out as loud as you can, with as much futile strength as you can muster, and only the indifferent wind will answer back.” 

Through eyes still blinded by overwhelming, hostile emotions, Charlie saw the scene around her transform into a wooded, very dense birch forest. The ground was covered in a thick layer of autumn-colored leaves and mulch. She felt her heels sink six inches into the mushy layer. Dozens upon dozens of black-speckled, thin white spires sprouted from the ground, mere inches apart from one another. Their trunks were gnarled and blemished with black eye-like features. They stared at her in an unsettling, unblinking fashion.

They were on all sides of her, assumingly stretching out for miles past the thick fog that hovered a few feet away.

“Where are we?...” A soft look of unease befuddled her features. She felt her rage evaporate into an apprehensive curiosity. 

Alastor tsked. “Ah, ah, ah.” He wagged his pointed finger at her in dissension. “If you want to learn, it is much easier to do so with the help of your inner demon first. Cling to those hateful emotions. Let them guide you.”

He came behind her and rested his gloved claws delicately along her narrow shoulders, massaging them with surprising gentleness.

“Tell me, my dear, what has you feeling such fierce, unbridled emotions?” he coaxed.

Charlie gave into his pleasant touch. Her defenses fell, and she spoke with unguarded truthfulness. “Vaggie. She doesn’t believe in me. She… never has.” Her words were unwary and arose erratically between sobs. 

Alastor continued his dextrous ministrations along her shoulders. His smile grew malevolently at the pleasant news. _So that pesky chihuahua has upset my lovely, usually upbeat and idealistic Charlotte into this stunning, unholy creature before me. How… extraordinarily wonderful. For her to drive the wedge between them herself! Ha! And I thought she would be a constant thorn at my side -- an unrelenting, staunch pillar of support for Charlie that would threaten my plans and unravel my careful manipulations. This is almost too easy._

“That’s simply terrible to hear, my dear. I thought she was your greatest advocate - a true, loyal, unwavering companion,” he lied effortlessly through his yellow-stained teeth.

“...I thought so too.” Charlie hung her head down dejectedly. 

“Well, if it’s companionship you need, I’m always here for you, my dear,” he cooed into her left ear, his voice unusually sweet.

Charlie shook his hands off her and turned to face him, her eyes still red and pointed. 

“Al, I know better than to trust you. 

"I know you only came to my hotel for your own selfish reasons. So why is it that I find myself being comforted by you, of all people? Though unhonest and vile and undoubtedly scheming something, I can at least trust that you’ll do the best job you can for the hotel so long as it amuses you. And that’s more than I’ve gotten from most, I guess...”

' _You poor soul, never once knowing genuine kindness, never once engaging with a person who did not exude underhanded deviousness. In this infernal realm, there is no one, not a single soul, who would act without malintentions towards you - aside from perhaps your parents. It must be hard, to be as innocent and genuine a soul as yourself surrounded by such wicked, vile demons. To seek and accept comfort from someone who is only using you, it pulls at my nonexistent heart strings,_ ' the crimson demon thought to himself, ever smug and dramatic inside his own head. Yet an unnerving feeling dared manifest itself within him, a small and pitiful feeling, and it made his statement less certain than he would have liked. 

Alastor didn’t respond to her. Instead, with a controlled snap he manifested a small, gold-rimmed porcelain saucer between his middle and index fingers. 

“This is what you’ll be trying to summon first.” He handed the plate to her. “Feel it between your fingers. Feel the polished, sleek material. Feel how delicate it is, how it would shatter if you were to carelessly drop it on hard flooring.

“Look at its simple, glossy design. See how the gold exquisitely wraps around its thin edge.

“Now close your eyes. Picture its twin, a second saucer held firmly between the fingers of your other hand. Feel the weight of it in your hand. Feel its glossiness. 

“Now _force_ that image from your mind into reality with your sheer, unrivaled might. Feel your inner demon’s power, its absolute reign over the image. Feel it reach out into your mind, grab the item for you, and place it into your hand. Your inner demon is an extension of yourself. Don’t let it control you; rather, oppress it into wholly obeying you, into heeding and acting out your every whim. Dominate it entirely within your being and do _not_ loosen your hold on it even a little.

“Open your eyes, Charlotte. Look at what you’ve brought forth from nothing.”

Charlie blinked her eyes open. She looked over to her hand that still held the plate from Alastor. Its sleek brilliance. Its graceful form. 

Then, she glanced over to her other, formerly-empty hand. Clutched between her fingers was a large, heavy ceramic piece. It was nearly three inches thick. The entirety of its thick edge was covered in beautiful gold, cold and sleek to the touch. It boasted a wide diameter of nearly eight inches. 

“An excellent start!” Alastor praised. He took both plates from her and held them closely to examine. Then, he smashed them onto the ground. Sharp, uneven pieces scattered the forest ground.

“Now do it again,” he commanded.

She growled, her serrated teeth bared to him at his rash action. How dare he mishandle her first work!

She forced her eyes shut, an angry expression calcified on her face.

“Fine. But don’t you dare do that again!” she snarled.

Alastor chuckled. “Very well, my dear. But your next attempt better be of a far higher caliber than that. I expect _much_ from you, my dear Charlotte.”

\-----  
Artwork that heavily inspired this ruthless Alastor scene:  
Link to artist: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/78562659 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave a comment below if so inclined. I read each comment, even on older chapters~
> 
> Stay tuned for more.


	8. Duties and Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie goes about her duties until she suddenly remembers how she left things with Vaggie. She tries to find her and make it right.

Charlie’s head felt heavy and dizzy as she forced herself up from her bed with wobbly arms. She blinked the view in, first tilting her head to her right to look at her lover’s side of the bed. It was empty. The pillows were perfectly straight and fluffed, devoid of creases. The plush pink blankets were missing, forming a messy nest around Charlie instead. 

_That’s odd. She usually sleeps in._

Charlie shifted her eyes to her ivory bedside table and glanced at the dainty alarm clock. She squinted at it, rubbed the crust out from her eyes, and then tried again to read the numbers. 11:47? That couldn’t be right. 

Charlie scooched herself off the bed and tried to take a step towards the clock, but when she pressed her weight onto her left leg, it gave out underneath her and she stumbled. She took a few hasty steps and caught herself with her hand leaning against the bed, but she felt weak. 

She groaned, exhausted. Her body felt achy as if she hadn’t slept right. As her eyelids began to slip, the blonde demoness gave into the compelling force of gravity and let it lull her back to her bed. 

‘ _Just a little more shut eye,_ ‘ she yielded. Her mind was already swirling with vivid images of the dream she’d had that night. 

Alastor’s red figure was stark against a snowy-white backdrop. He clutched at a white pillar between his claws and raked it, leaving behind long streaks of tan. Through her dream, she heard the sound of millions of tiny fibers splintering. It was a tree, she realized. Alastor was in a forest of white trees. 

And so was she, it seemed. She looked down through her dream-granted vision and saw her hands as they connected to her arms and led back to her body. Her nails seemed longer and more pointed than usual. 

Charlie dimly watched as her hands blurred and went through complicated motions. When they had stopped, a shiny, small platter had appeared within their palms. How pretty. It couldn’t be larger than four inches across. 

The vision became slightly nauseating as her field of vision lurched towards the ground and the Charlie of her dream placed the saucer against the soft brown mulch. A deafening snap threatened to end the vision. Everything went white for a moment and the trees all blurred into one. But then the view cleared and she could make out the gold-rimmed porcelain saucer once more. Atop it propped a beautifully crafted tea cup in matching colors. Its gold handle twisted elegantly at the edges and curved resplendently in the middle.

It was delicately picked up between obsidian gloves. Charlie witnessed the field of vision rise back up, keeping the tea cup and saucer ever in view. Directly behind the ceramic pieces, a striking amber smile curved upwards in a clean crescent silhouette. It began to move, mimicking speech, but Charlie could not hear a single word uttered.

The vision faded, and boundless black greeted her behind her eyelids. She blinked her eyes open again. Her eyes met the hands that had summoned such beautiful things in her dream. 

Still hazy from her dream, she pressed her finger against her thumb and envisioned the enchanting saucer. She imagined herself pulling the saucer from her mind in the same quick, forceful manner as a snapping gesture. Her thumb glided hard against her finger.

Her eyes widened. Sunlight bounced off the new object sitting within her hands and into her face, blinding her. Shocked, she dropped the foreign object, and it came crashing silently onto the soft blankets pooled over her bed.

Charlie rubbed at her eyes hard.

_Am I still dreaming?_

She pinched at the skin lightly on her forearm for good measure. The quick jolt of pain confirmed that she was awake. 

Dubious, she pressed a finger against the round, glossy object. She felt its mass push back as she tilted it up. One side of the rim rose slowly from the blankets, coming to a perpendicular angle before it plopped face down on the bed, succumbing to gravity. 

She tore her eyes from it and jumped out of bed, heading to her bathroom for a quick, refreshing shower. Hopefully this would wake her up because her mind was beginning to queue an endless list of questions. 

The warm water hit her back pleasantly and she sighed deeply, inhaling the calming steam around her.

Okay, realization one. Apparently, that wasn’t a dream. She and Alastor had been in that strange forest last night, and he had helped her learn how to summon objects like that tea saucer. 

She hummed in thought. _Hmm… That’s right. I made a deal with him yesterday morning._

_I guess he’s already started to fulfill his end… Why can’t I remember hardly anything from yesterday?_

She racked her brain for yesterday’s events. She recalled her morning, when she had stormed into Alastor’s office and they had shaken hands, sealing their deal. She recalled - and thanked the Heavens for - the sudden army of demons that had swarmed the hotel soon afterwards. 

The new patrons had taken a long time to sign the paperwork and settle into their new home. Perhaps Charlie had napped when all was taken care of? And then gotten up later and met up with Alastor? 

The events after helping the new guests were foggy. 

And just how long had she been out with him last night? She never overslept and she hadn’t felt this tired in eons. 

Having already stepped out of the shower, she shrugged on her typical attire. Black, well-fitting slacks. A soft, long-sleeved cotton button-down. Her trusty suspenders and, for good measure, her dapper black bow tie. She felt ready for the day.

‘ _Well, better late than never!_ ‘ she thought merrily with a smile as she headed down to her office. With the near two-dozen new hotel patrons that had just checked in yesterday, her work for the day was cut out for her.

She sank into her creamy-white, very cushioned office chair. With a notebook to her left and a laptop to her right, she dug right into her work. 

First, she wanted to set the hotel’s events for the week. She’d been giddy to have inspirational, do-good events ever since Angel had shown up two weeks ago. And she had tried immediately of course, but Angel had convinced her to wait until the hotel had more patrons. 

_Hmmmmm which events to prioritize. I have so many planned! We can do seasonal crafts together, braid friendship bracelets, write kind notes and cards for one another, bake cookies, sing carols, adopt puppies - oh, I want to do them all! Maybe I should just schedule everything this week. Back-to-back, nonstop fun!_

Her excitement overflowed from her mind and spread through her limbs down to her feet, which were tapping madly against the tile flooring. The hard tile against her polished black heels sung out against the assault. _Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap._

A sobering thought flashed through her racing mind.

_But I should probably cap it at three events this week. Vaggie’s always saying that I need to meet demons from where they’re coming, not where I want them to be._

Her body relaxed and a warmth spread over her as she thought lovingly of her girlfriend. The quick-paced tapping stopped. 

Truly, Charlie could not have done this without her. Her input was always so helpful, especially since Vaggie was a fellow mortal demon. Charlie sometimes had a hard time relating to them. She did not entirely understand humans who had lived a bad enough life to end up in Hell. Unlike them, she hadn’t lived another, shorter life in a more peaceful realm. She also didn’t feel the wicked pull of most temptations, didn’t understand their appeal. Rather, she much preferred a life characterized by compassion. 

She wanted love and friendship and all the good things in-between. As Lucifer’s daughter, she hadn’t been given the same chance at Heaven as them. No matter how kind she was, no matter how much she tried to help others, her Grandfather, Creator of all beings, had entirely ignored her existence and her attempts at outreach. 

Charlie pulled away from her dreary thoughts and tried thinking of something else. Vaggie. Where was she? How had her morning been so far?

She let the pleasant thoughts fill her mind as she filled out a digital plan for the week. Charlie decided that it would be best to give the demons today to settle in. The first activity would be tomorrow: a big communal breakfast. Then, on Tuesday she would host their first group therapy session together. She’d ease into it with these amazing ice breaker games she’d heard of from Earth and hot cocoa and sugar cookies. Wednesday through Friday, she would host individual therapy sessions to really meet and understand each one of her cases. Together, the two of them would make personalized plans, focusing most on correcting the sins that had landed the demon in Hell in the first place. 

The printer buzzed to life from the corner near the well-lit window. Copies of her weekly schedule slowly beeped out. 

When the whirling stopped, Charlie gathered the papers and headed up to the third floor. She placed a flyer caringly on each door. She then headed to the fourth floor and did the same. She continued until all the nonempty rooms' doors had been decorated with a copy of the flyer.

_Great work, Charlie! Now let’s go find Vaggie. I bet she’ll reward my hard efforts with a nice, warm hug._

Her walk turned into a skip as she headed to look first in the kitchen. It was now nearly two o’clock. Perhaps Vaggie was helping herself to a late lunch. 

She glanced around but saw no silver-haired demoness. A small Niffty was scrubbing the top of the oven mercilessly with an abrasive green sponge.

“Hi Niffty!” Charlie smiled at her. “I’m wondering if you’ve seen Vaggie around.”

Niffty looked up from the oven. Her large, one-eyed gaze turned from one of malevolent glee at killing all signs of filth to one of affability. 

“Hiya Charlie! Congrats on getting all those new demons!”

Niffty’s short yet lithe legs scampered over to the dapper, ever-cheerful woman. She wrapped her thin black arms tightly around Charlie’s lower waist, tiptoeing slightly for better reach. 

“And thank you for bagging a couple of handsome ones as well!” Niffty giggled pervertedly. 

Charlie accepted the hug warmly and returned it. Her arms draped over the doll-like woman’s shoulders. 

“Thank you! And uh - you’re welcome? But I couldn’t have done it alone! Thank you so much for all the work you’ve done, Niffty!” She wrapped her arms tighter over the girly demoness. “You really don’t have to clean so much. This place is really old and dusty, not to mention enormous. I’m already so blown away with what you’ve done so far. Please, take a break!”

Niffty drunk in her praise like a starved animal until she felt intoxicated by it. A charming smile plastered itself on her face and her red dimples flushed.

“Oh, you’re too sweet, Charlie! Like the sweetest, most intoxicating apple-infused dessert wine!” the words came quick-paced and high-pitched. “But no! This place _is_ filthy! And that is exactly why I must continue my work. I cannot have such filth desecrating this hotel, nope!”

Niffty unwrapped her arms and hurried back over to her current project. Once again compulsively scrubbing, she called to Charlie without looking up from her work, “Why don’t you try Husky? Since he’s posted at the front desk, he’d have seen her if she went out.”

Charlie’s face lit up. “That’s such a smart idea! Thank you, Niffty! I’ll go do that.” 

With rhythmic footsteps, Charlie strolled up to the combined front-desk-bar. 

“Hi Husk! Nice to see you!” she beamed.

Husk’s dark-set eyes shifted to her without moving a muscle. His body was slouched, his elbow supporting himself against the polished ebony surface. He held his face in his flat palm. Three yellow fangs jutted out from his closed frown.

“Whaddaya want? Doubt it’s booze,” he asked lazily with his characteristic, grouchy demeanor. 

“I was actually wondering if you’ve seen Vaggie. I’m looking for her,” she clarified.

Husk’s right eye magnified. It’s adjoining eyebrow twitched. 

“Not since you booted her out yesterday,” he supplied.

Charlie’s light honey eyes grew three times their size.

“I _WHAT?_ “

“Ya don’t remember?” His eyes narrowed. “Ya told her to get out. Even went full psycho on her. ‘Was quite the spectacle. I bet Al’s bummed he missed it, that maniacal bastard.”

Charlie raked the sides of her face with her nails, pushing them up into her hair. 

“What?” she weakly asked again, puzzled.

Unwilling to relay more than he had to, Husk tried to narrow her question. “Exactly what _do_ you remember?”

“Well… I woke up and I went to Alastor’s office and then all those people came and Vaggie and I helped them and then I was tired and… I don’t really remember what happened then. The next thing I remember is uh… Al teaching me how to materialize objects later at night. But even that's hazy.”

Husk sighed. His face sunk further into a scowl. 

He summarized what he saw for her. Serving an unpredictable homicidal psychopath for this many decades had taught him to always keep vigilant and stay on his toes. Never knew what was going to threaten him - or who. 

“After the two of ya’s finished with all them newcomers, ya duked it out. From what I overheard, it seems she was distrustful of our new guests-” ‘ _and with good reason_ ,’ he added silently, “-and confessed that she didn’t believe in your cause here. Then you went full-demon at her and told her to get out before picking her up and kicking her out yourself. She was lying on the cement outside for a while looking dazed. Then she got up and headed east of here. She hasn’t been back since.”

Charlie was silent. She felt something shatter within her.

“She… she doesn’t believe in me? I kicked her out?” Her voice was hoarse.

Husk felt extremely uncomfortable by her intense display of emotion directed at him. “I dunno, lady. I’m only relaying what I overheard. Go ask her yourself,” he retorted.

It was weird. Maybe it was because of how uncharacteristically wholesome Charlie and this whole hotel shtick was, but Husk felt himself feeling sorry for her. He wanted to comfort her though he didn’t have the slightest idea how. Besides, he shouldn’t get too mixed up. It’s only a matter of time before Al does something terrible to her like he always does. Best to stay out of it and wait for this phase to pass. Then he can go back to Lucky Sevens and gamble all his earnings from this job away.

The minutes passed by silently between them.

Finally, Charlie got out, “Okay. Thanks, Husk. I’ll… I’ll go do that.”

It seemed Charlie had been too busy keeping her tears down to respond because when she finally did, the waterworks started. Water streamed down her face. She turned away from him and the bar and headed to the large front doors. She pushed against them with her whole body, feeling weak. They eased open and let her pass. 

Charlie wandered eastwards aimlessly. She had no idea where Vaggie could be. 

She didn’t notice the sky grow darker or the street lights begin to flick on. Her mind was solely focused on finding Vaggie.

The hours passed mindlessly. This wasn’t working. She couldn’t just go street by street and hope to stumble into her! Wait. Why hadn’t she called her? ‘ _Stupid, dumb, careless Charlie,_ ’ she wordlessly scolded herself.

Her hand found her phone in her back pocket. She clutched it awkwardly within her hands and fumbled to Vaggie’s contact. The green call button looked menacing.

She pressed it and brought the phone to her ear.

_Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiing…_

With each buzz of the dial, Charlie felt more of herself crumble.

_Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Click._

_Hi you’ve reached Vaggie, or Vagatha, whatever. Call back later._

_Beeeep._

“Hi… Vaggie - I’m so sorry for what happened yesterday. Please-” she choked on a sob, “Please can we talk about it? Where are you? Please answer me. I’m so worried about you. I need to make this right, please. Call me when you can…” 

She closed the phone and shoved it back in her pocket. Then, thinking better, she fished it out again and scrolled to a different contact. 

She called. The phone picked up on the first dial.

“Charlie! How can we help you?” two energetic, young voices chimed.

“Hi Razzle, Hi Dazzle,” she forced the words out between shallow breaths. “Could you two please come get me and bring me back to the hotel?”

The two loyal goat-demons quickly noted the sadness in her voice.

“Of course! We’ll be right there! What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” Their voices morphed demonically. “ _Lucifer can’t forgive those who hurt his only daughter. Tell us, and they will be no more_.”

Charlie shook her head sullenly. “No, no one hurt me. I’m just… upset. Maybe I hurt me. I did something terrible.”

The two servants staunchly refused the notion that their mistress could be anything but perfect. “No! Just hang on, miss, we’ll be there as soon as we can!” 

In the background, Charlie heard quick, frantic footsteps, followed by an engine revving. 

A pink, white, and gold, monster-inspired limo pulled up to the curb in front of her. Having been created by Lucifer for the sole reason of protecting and providing companionship for his daughter, the two goat-demons’ heads were ingrained with her whereabouts at all times. 

Razzle stumbled out of the car and pulled her door open. 

“Here, miss! Please, get inside.”

Charlie sniffed. “Thanks, Razzle.”

As they drove back to the hotel, Razzle and Dazzle tried to cheer their mistress up. Razzle was snuggled against her, hugging and nuzzling her in the back of the limo while Dazzle drove smoothly yet speedily. 

“How about we paint and draw when we get back to the hotel, miss! That always cheers you up,” Razzle offered.

“Yes! And we have the full rainbow available, over two hundred unique colors, all vibrant and just waiting for you to use them!” Dazzle encouraged.

Charlie leaned into Razzle, taking comfort from his red-apricot fluff.

“Thank you both, you’re so sweet.” A smile formed between her tear-stained cheeks. “But no, there’s something I have to do instead.”

When they got back to the hotel, she bid them farewell, hugging each goat-demon tightly and kissing them on their fluffy forehead.

She headed to the second floor. It was past eight p.m. She doubted that Alastor was in his office, but regardless she had to try. 

Timidly, she knocked on the dark ebony door. _Knock. Knock._

A series of creaks coming from behind the door answered her call. A moment later, a low, enticing voice joined in.

“Come in.”

She wiped at her eyes and cheeks again for good measure. Her hand clutched the shiny brown knob and turned it slowly. She peeked inside the room.

“Hi Alastor, I didn’t expect you to still be in your office,” came her soft, hesitant voice.

“Then why did you knock?” He raised an eyebrow at her. His eyes were half-lidded and gleamed with smug amusement. Above his pointed chin, his smile boasted self-assurance. 

“Well… I was hoping you would be here. Alastor, I need your help.”

His ears peaked with curiosity. “Oh? With what, my dear?”

“It’s… Vaggie. She’s missing and I can’t find her. I said and did awful things to her yesterday, and I’m afraid I’m going to lose her now. Please, will you help me find her?”

At the mention of that insolent chihuahua, his ears deflated and with them, his interest. He thought he’d already been rid of her.

“Oh.” His smile tightened. “Not interested,” he flatly responded.

Charlie came into his room and stood before his desk, pleading with her big, honeyed eyes.

“Please, Al! I don’t know who else to turn to.”

“My dear, you haven’t even fulfilled your end of our previous arrangement.”

With her this close, he could see that she had been crying. Her cheeks were puffy and her eyes swollen. _Had she been crying over that pesky mutt?_ For some reason, the thought enraged him and tasted bitter. _Why is she wasting her time and her emotions on such an undeserving wench?_

Her voice pierced through his thoughts. “I know, I know, but I plan to, Al. And this is important! I did something awful. I need to find her and make this right. Please.”

He scoffed. “What makes you even think I know her whereabouts?”

“C’mon Al, you’re one of the most powerful demons I know! Do you need me to stroke your ego? If anyone can find her, it’s you.”

“The power to find her lies dormant within yourself as well, my dear.”

“Will you teach me how to find her then?” Her eyes gleamed.

He bit his lower lip in amusement. His smile turned into a tight, taunting ‘u’.

“Hm, no,” he smirked.

Charlie felt exasperated. She couldn’t be doing this right now. She didn’t have the time. “Then please, please just help me find her! Please, Al, I’m begging you.”

Her voice was desperate. 

He held a calm, controlled demeanor, but inside his mind was racing.

_Now’s the perfect moment. I have the heiress desperate and begging for my help. Finally, I can demand whatever payment I want from her. I’ll help her with this mere trifle, and in return, seize all that she has. I cannot let such an opportunity pass me by. The only piece on the board unaccounted for is Lucifer. I’ll need to ensure he can’t harm me for what I’m about to do with his daughter._

But his mind was cloudy. He was seething from an unknown emotion from the way Charlie grieved over that pathetic dog. It hurt and fogged his mind. He couldn’t think straight. 

_How dare that filthy creature mar my lovely Charlie’s face with tears and sorrow. She’s undone her beautiful smile. How can Charlie still care for her so? I saw the rage and anger she felt last night. That Vagatha must have hurt Charlie dearly._

_So_ why _is Charlie grieving for her? Why is she willing to give up so much, just to talk to that wench? She wouldn’t be nearly as anguished if it was instead I who had left._

_Why does that thought hurt so much?_

“Very well,” he heard himself say, but he still hadn’t come to a decision. 

He’d make her forget that girl. What had she ever done for her? Alastor had broadcasted her message across all of Hell, had summoned new residents for her, had unlocked hidden powers within her. 

“I will help you locate the girl. But in return, you must do something for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please let me know what you thought in the comments below~
> 
> \--  
> Oh my, Alastor, is that _jealousy?_
> 
> \--  
> If anyone would like a playlist of Alastor-themed songs, here ya go: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcbCl-AEw5mB3-Fpbtqe0BI6NE7iJ10mP


	9. The Fragile Moth Behind the Hard Exoskeleton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie tracks down Vaggie, and the two of them have a heart-to-heart.

Charlie’s response was immediate. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to find Vaggie and apologize. Now. Yesterday, really, but that wasn’t an option anymore.

“Yes, anything! Please, just help me find her. What do you want?” she cried, feeling something between overjoyed, relieved, and anguished. 

Oh, she made it so easy for him. But no. Not yet. 

“Now’s not the time for that, my dear.” His voice was low and mocking, resembling a hiss more than spoken vernacular. “Or is your missing friend not more pressing?” 

His eyes narrowed, scanning her face for any microexpressions that would give away her thoughts. While he normally prided himself as a man of excellent people-reading skills and she an open book, her tear-muddled face made it more difficult to read than usual.

Her face scrunched slightly. She looked like she was about to correct him on something he’d said.

‘ _Girlfriend,_ ’ Charlie rectified silently. But was she still? What were they, now that Charlie had hurt her? And was it true - that Vaggie, her dearest friend and closest confidant in all her thousand years of life, hadn’t believed in her? Had she… been just like the rest of them?

She wailed. This wasn’t helping. She needed to find her!

“No, no please find her, Al,” she begged between sobs.

In a single, graceful motion, Alastor rose from behind his desk. He took long strides towards the center of the room. When he had passed Charlie and his face was hidden from her, he grimaced slightly. 

Finding that wench was the last thing he wanted to do. He would not let them make up and go back to their happy, quaint little lives. No. 

_My dear, naive Charlotte. This past love of yours is over. There is no undoing what is done. And if you two sick lovebirds dare think otherwise…_

_I’ll rip to shreds all that you hold dear, until I am all that binds you to this realm._

He tugged up his striped sleeve a few inches until his bare forearm peeked out. Then, with the same claw that had so carefully lifted his clothes, he cut into the skin. 

A stream of blood spilled from his wrist and onto the dark ebony flooring. It splattered silently.

“Alastor? What are you doing?!” Charlie gasped, looking at him as if he had lost his mind.

“Hush, my darling. I’m merely doing what you asked of me.”

Alastor continued his precision work without giving her a single glance. First, he marked the border. A perfect, crimson circle surfaced against the dark floorboards. Then, he filled it in. Sharp, angular lines appeared within the circle. When he had finished, he stepped back and licked his wound, taking back the remaining blood that threatened to spill and further taint the floor.

A satanic five-pointed star laid before him. He drew a few complicated symbols before stepping within its borders and sitting cross-legged.

“Now, just give me a moment, Charlie. I’ll find your friend for you in no time.”

Charlie stared at him, wide-eyed. She watched as his shadow tore from him and slipped beneath the door. His eyes suddenly opened, but it was not his normal red-backed black pupils that greeted her. The sclerae were midnight pools of black. Red static lines danced erratically within them. 

Charlie was beyond confused and perhaps a bit perturbed.

“Uh, Al?-”

He shushed her. “Sh. I’m viewing the world through the eyes of my shadow. I need to concentrate in order to do this, so a little silence please, my dear.”

Charlie watched him as the minutes ticked by.

She waved her hand out in front of him, wondering if he could still see her. But there was no response. 

A slight smile crept up between her tear-stained cheeks. Her heart felt raw and beaten from all the emotions coursing through her. But she had just gotten a marvelous idea… 

With soft, careful steps, she tiptoed closer to him. Her eyes were alert for any signs of stirring, but none came.

She crept closer.

She stood inches before him. This close, she could see the individual strands of red-and-black hair that joined to become his hair and ears.

She reached out, inching her hand closer and closer to his left ear. She just had to… Just once… She needed to know what those alluring, forbidden ears felt like. 

Her finger poked the top of the tuft. It slightly twitched.

She waited a moment for any other response. When none came, she slowly slid her finger down its length, drinking in every touch. It was so soft. So fluffy. So unlike Alastor and yet an undeniable part of him.

Her hand reached its base. She shifted her eyes from his bewitching ear to look him in the eyes again. Still erratic and beset with static.

Her heart jumped with adolescent glee and her smile grew wider. _Fantastic… Fascinating…_

She took the ear between her thumb and finger and began to caress it. 

Alastor was quickly scanning the streets and buildings of Pentagram City for Vaggie’s unique, deplorable energy when he felt a jarring but pleasant sensation in his left ear. 

Puppeteering his shadow, he commanded it to touch the wispy black ear but found nothing.

A blissful shiver crawled down his spine as he felt the sensation descend the entire length of his ear. Losing concentration, he temporarily cut contact with his shadow and regained presence in his office.

He sensed the captivating heiress hovering just over him. Alastor stilled, maintaining perfect posture as he feigned continued absence. 

He felt the pleasant sensation on his ear again, and it clicked. His sweet, undaunted Charlie was stroking his deerlike ear while she thought him unawares! It took an exceeding amount of control to not let his shock or savvy show. 

He stayed there a moment, enjoying the sensation. He’d never tell her about this or about how she made him feel in this moment. This moment would be kept secret from each of them. 

He didn’t want it to stop, not yet, but he couldn’t have her thinking him incompetent. He had already taken longer than he should to find the loathsome chihuahua. 

His voice was almost foreign to him. Devoid of radio clutter and softly sighing, he broke the moment between them. “Charlotte, my sweet, sweet sinstress, if you keep doing that then I won’t be able to find your friend.”

Horror struck her face at being caught. She scampered five feet out of his reach. 

She tried to save face. “Do- Doing what?” Her face was flustered and she knew there was no way she’d get out of this, but she had to try anyway.

Alastor merely chuckled, a soft, uncharacteristically-benign sound on his lips, before returning back to his shadow.

More minutes passed, but Charlie dared not move from her spot now. She screamed internally. _He knows._ She clutched her poor, pummeled heart. It had taken way too much battering today. 

Finally, his voice broke the silence. “Found her.”

A switch inside her clicked. She wasted no time, quickly jotting down the address and calling her two servants. She bellowed a quick thanks as she raced out the office and to the front of the hotel. She hadn’t a moment to lose. 

She knocked on the foreign door that belonged to the written address.

“Vaggie? Are you in there?” she shouted.

Still banging on the door, she heard footsteps and hushed voices inside. But they were diminishing and becoming faint.

“Vaggie?” she repeated.

When no one answered, she barged in, breaking the door off its hinges.

“Vaggie!?” Her eyes flared red as they scanned the place for her closest friend, sister, lover, whatever Vaggie was to her. She didn’t know how to label her, but she was undoubtedly the most important person to Charlie in all of Hell. 

Charlie tore the dinky place apart, easily tossing aside and breaking furniture as though it weighed nothing. 

“¡La Diabla!” an older, womanly voice cried out. 

Charlie twisted her head to the voice and found its source on the stairs. A large, tawny creature covered in bristling hair met her gaze. She looked like a cross between a bear and a wolf. 

“ **Where’s Vaggie?** ” she demanded the woman. Her voice was demonic and warped. 

The woman marked a cross across her chest with quick-moving hands. What a bizarre gesture to make in Hell.

“Querido Dios,” the woman begged, “¡Salvanos!”

A voice so familiar to her penetrated her ears. “Cut it, Charlie!” But the tone was wrong. It was venomous when it should have been warm.

“You’re scaring her! Us! What do you want?! Come out of that dire form!” her ex-lover’s harsh voice demanded from the top of the stairs.

Charlie stared at her, tears flooding her eyes. “Vaggie!” she wept. 

They each stared at each other, unmoving. Charlie forced her demonic features to retreat within herself.

“Oh, Vaggie! It’s you, it’s really you! I was so worried!” Charlie dropped to her knees, still sobbing.

Seeing the danger fade, Vaggie shifted her gaze from Charlie to Mariana. 

“Está bien. Retirarse arriba,” she soothed, urging the older woman upstairs. 

Mariana’s dark hazelnut eyes were deep with worry for the younger moth-demon, but she said nothing and went upstairs.

Vaggie stared at Charlie, her arms tightly folded. 

“What are you doing here? How’d you even find this place?” she asked, her voice biting and full of acid. 

“I- I…” Charlie took a deep breath, forcing the sobs down. “I don’t know what happened yesterday. My mind blanked out everything after all those new guests arrived. I was looking for you this afternoon and I… and Husk told me what awful things I did to you yesterday. Please, Vaggie! What happened? How can I make this right by you? I’m so sorry…”

“You- you don’t remember?” the silver-haired demoness breathed out, bewildered and icy. 

“No… Husk told me that I told you to get out. That I hurt you physically. Please, Vaggie, I just want to talk and make things right between us.”

Vaggie’s face shifted through a number of emotions. Anger. Hurt. Puzzlement. Sorrow. Hope. Anger again. Fatigue. 

Finally, she caved. “Fine.” She made her way down the stairs and recapped their last encounter.

Charlie was in turmoil. She tried to control her emotions, knowing that they were what had set her off and made her hurt Vaggie in the first place. 

_Deep breaths. Breathe in. Hold it. 5… 4… 3... 2… Breathe out. Don’t lose control. Breathe in. It’s okay. It will be alright._

“Vaggie.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t understand.”

Vaggie was drumming her nails against her forearm, resentful and full of emotions she did not want to feel. “What isn’t there to understand, Charlie?”

“You… you don’t believe in me. I thought you were the only one who did, but turns out I’m all alone after all.” She forced a calm, steady voice, but it still came out shaky. 

“Charlie, I love… loved you and your dreams, and I really wanted to help you in whatever way I could. I listened to you, I came up with ideas, I worked alongside you, but it was because I loved you, not because I believed it was possible. 

“I’ve had my dreams shattered time and time again, and coming down to Hell was the last straw. I want to believe… but I can’t. Not until I see proof. I won’t build myself up with false hope only to crash down to a pit lower than where I was before.”

“Oh…” Charlie tried to process it: Vaggie having her dreams get crushed again and again until she was too wary to dream. She tried to empathize, to image herself in that state. 

Her eyes bled red with pain. 

“That’s… horrible. I can’t. I can’t have that, Vaggie. I need to always be dreaming or else I…” Charlie didn’t finish the thought.

The blonde blinked her eyes and the red faded, knowing it scared her companion. She hesitantly reached out as if to hug her, but didn’t complete the motion. Instead, she sat with her hands outreached, asking the silver-haired woman for permission with her eyes.

Vaggie nodded. Charlie slowly wrapped her arms around her.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Vaggie. And I’m sorry to hear that you feel that way. I can… I can dream enough for the both of us, okay? So please, come back with me to the hotel. Will you forgive me?” Charlie asked, her voice soft and pleading.

Vaggie’s hardened exterior crumbled. She returned the hug with tight, searching arms. 

“Yes Charlie, my love. I forgive you. Let’s go home.”

“There’s…” Charlie hesitated. Vaggie’s response had made her feel whole again, and now she was about to tear her best friend apart. But she had to be honest, she couldn’t fake it anymore and she needed the other woman to know her true feelings for her. “There’s one more thing I want to tell you Vaggie, while we’re being all open-hearted and honest with each other.”

Charlie pursed her lips, dreading the next part. She had to tell Vaggie; she deserved to know the truth. Charlie couldn’t love her back in the way Vaggie wanted. She deserved to be set free to find someone else.

Vaggie looked up at her, her eyes sparkling pools. She looked at Charlie like she was her whole world.

“I…” Charlie crumpled. She couldn’t do it. Not with the way Vaggie was looking at her with so much fierce love and loyalty after everything she had done to her only yesterday. “I love you.”

Vaggie giggled, a surprisingly soft sound from her typically gruff demeanor. 

“I love you too, silly. C’mon, let’s go home” The moth-demoness entwined their hands together and led the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave a comment below if so inclined. I read each comment, even on older chapters~
> 
> _Stay tuned for more._


	10. Enticing Calculations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor cashes in his prior favor from Charlotte.

When the two women had arrived back at the hotel, arms draped lovingly around each other and leading the other up to their shared room, Alastor was still sitting on the floor, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the door that Charlie had left through hours ago. 

His mind was calculating, sifting through all the information he had gathered thus far on Hell’s heiress. 

He thought back to those puzzling looks she had given him twice now. Maybe even more than that. 

The first time, it had been when he had cooked jambalaya for everyone as a way to welcome him, Niffty, and Husker to his latest gambit. He’d invaded her personal space, standing erectly so close to her seat and leaning in even closer to further tower over her. His face had been a mere few inches above hers, all to convey his authority over the situation. 

She’d been staring deeply into his eyes. Why? Trying to find a nonexistent remaining shred of humanity? A portal to his soul and deepest, purest thoughts?

No… he’d seen that look before. He shut his eyes forcefully and tried to remember the bygone memory. It had been back before he had died and become a resident of Hell. 

He hardly ever revisited those irksome memories from when he was living, and it was greatly straining to try and do so now. But he needed to know. It was a puzzling piece of information that possibly held the key to some exquisite insights and new ploys.

He racked his brain for the right memory. No longer was he the crimson overlord of Hell he’d grown comfortable being, but instead a simple man with choppy auburn hair, dressed in a simple, sleeveless hickory vest over a white dress shirt and matching hickory trousers. A pair of wide, narrow glass spectacles were perched on his pointed nose.

_Hmm… now where have I seen that look before._

He thought back to his days when he strolled the cobbled streets of New Orleans, looking for new, unsuspecting victims to slice and dice the quiet, dull nights away. 

That look… he’d seen it shared between newly weds and young lovebirds. He’d seen it on a multitude of womens’ faces when they’d foolishly flirted with him. He’d seen it when someone had gawked at the object of their affections, their eyes full of awe and yearning.

Ah yes. Desire. 

Why hadn’t he realized sooner?

Carefully locking the human memories away deep within the recesses of his mind, Alastor blinked awake from his thoughts. He stared at the ebony door, then turned his gaze to the hand which had last touched her.

His long tongue reached out to trail against the smooth fabric of his glove, licking where he had last made contact with Charlie. He tasted her fingers. Her bare, rosy cheek. His eyes closed in wicked abandonment.

_Oh, Charlie, you alluring, absolutely depraved soul. A murderous, treacherous deal maker waltzes into your life, and you feel, of all things, a sexual attraction to him?_

A deep, rumbling laughter filled his gut. It was just so astounding. Purely unfathomable. 

_You’re incurable. A hopeless creature, yet so full of naive hope and dreams. Oh, what am I going to do with you, my sweet? You make this so amusing for me._

He basked in the pure pleasure brought on by such wicked thoughts. 

Oh, he needed more of this. When would he have another chance like this? Never. Since his arrival in Hell and soon-after murderous frenzy, not a single demon had had the audacity to want him in such a manner! No, they were smarter than that. They knew who he was - what he was. And with no laws nor punishment, he no longer needed to hide his cruel, sadistic side. He horrified most of them, shaping them into spineless cowards that were oft keen enough to stay out of his way. The only looks of desire aimed at him had been false contortions in a foolhardy ploy for power and his downfall. 

But hers was genuine. He realized with sudden clarity how unique she was.

And with that realization came another, equally powerful understanding. 

He couldn’t break her yet. 

He needed to see how far he could push her. Like an unpliable, thick branch that he slowly bowed further and further. At first, only small splinterings surfaced, maybe a few cracks. He would be meticulous and slow, creaking the branch further and further into an unobtainable shape. Each moment he would savour thoroughly until that resonant, final snap.

So the ever-perplexing princess fancied him… what a delectable notion. He’d prolong their game. After all, there was no fun in an immediate victory. No, he’d even handicap himself. 

He’d have her come to his side willingly. Without an ounce of force, he’d make those tantalizing words leave her lips -- “I’m yours.”

\---

Warm, red sunbeams bathed the hotel in morning light through its many narrow windows, stained glass pieces, and glass balcony doors. 

An hour before the scheduled communal breakfast, Charlie chipperly made her way down from the top floor to the second floor’s shared kitchen. She was humming a light tune and tapping her hand against her side to its beat. As was typical, the ever-upbeat demoness wore a bright, compelling smile that reached her eyes. It’d take a real callous, heartless demon to see her smile and not involuntarily share in her joy.

Unfortunately for her, Hell was full of callous, heartless demons.

She reached the kitchen and nearly did a double-take.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen was a tall figure that resembled the hotel’s resident overlord and yet didn’t. His red-and-black hair was neatly tied up in a short knot behind him. His trademark pinstripe tailcoat was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he wore a simple red dress shirt that matched the sheen of his hair. The sleeves were crisply rolled up to the crease right above his elbows. Draped over his shirt and pants was a long, deep-merlot apron. In fine print, it read in black lettering “Don’t kiss the cook.”

He was stationed over the stove, his left hand rhythmically tossing a wide pan over an open, low flame. Fluffy yellow-white curds of eggs simmered within. He expertly rocked them against the heat, careful not to overcook them. 

“Ah, Charlie! Bonjour ma fleur. Glad you could make it. I could use an extra hand. Please, come here darling,” he beckoned. He finished the current set of eggs, sprinkling fresh garnishes over them and shutting off the stove heat before heaping them into a covered hotplate to keep warm. 

“Alastor?” she asked quizzically, taking in his altered appearance and unexpected presence in the kitchen. “Why are you… You don’t need to cook anything! I promised I would take care of all of it.”

In a musically-inclined voice, he retorted, “Nonsense my dear, I insist! Cooking is one of my favorite pastimes, after all.” His voice was warm but heavily filtered by his radio. A swingtime tune she hadn’t noticed before was playing softly, emanating somewhere from within him. 

“Oh,” she smiled warmly at him. “Well, if you say so! I’m always happy for more helpers. Cooking for thirty demons is quite the handful I’ve gotten myself into.” She giggled at her predicament and felt truly touched by his unprompted help.

“I can see by the ingredients in the fridge that you were planning quite the feast for this morning! Three dozen eggs, two sizable packets of bacon, several links of sausage, fresh bread of three different varieties, a large tub of yogurt, a handful of cereals. Why, you even thought to include fruit! There’s strawberries, cantaloupe, grapes, and more in there. Truly a balanced, hearty meal to start the day with!”

She blushed. Her hand went to a lock of her blonde hair as she twirled it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I might have gotten a little carried away at the store… I just wanted to make sure there was something for everybody. I don’t know everyone’s preferences yet.”

“Well, just you let me handle anything that needs the stovetop, dear. I pride myself on my cooking abilities. The meats, the eggs, I’ll take care of it all! How about you start on cutting the fruit into delicate little pieces.”

Charlie grabbed the fruit from the fridge. “Can do!” she beamed back.

Alastor gazed hungrily at her as she balanced the sharp knife between her fingers. In a smooth motion, she sliced the cantaloupe in half, its juices dripping over the wooden cutting board. 

He forced his attention back to his current pan full of crisp bacon. 

With ten minutes till ten, Charlie was dismayed that no residents had joined them in the kitchen or adjoining dining room. 

_I hope we didn’t prepare all this food for nothing. Please, come out. I won’t bite, I promise! I just want to get to know each of you better._

Her eyes drooped. Alastor noticed her somber look. He immediately understood.

“Why the long face, darling? I’m sure they’ll show up. No one can resist such enticing flavors! Why, the aroma must be nearly reaching their doors by now. I’m sure it will have them coming down in just a moment.”

He glanced around the kitchen, his eyes narrowed.

“Charlie, I’m not seeing any ice for our guests. Could you be a dear and grab a couple cupfuls from the walk-in freezer?”

When she’d taken his bait and left, he summoned his inner demon to reside within his shadow. The black silhouette morphed, growing sinister and glowing a slight maroon hue. 

“My friend,” Alastor greeted in a low, commanding tone, “I think our guests need a firm reminder. Do give them a swift kick out of bed for me, won’t you?”

The shadow smirked, its wispy tongue dancing on its face. It detached from its master and headed off to perform his bidding.

Within fifteen minutes, all but one resident of the hotel had been accounted for and were now pigging over the food. Demons piled plates high with a ranging assortment from the piping hot, mouthwatering breakfast buffet. Charlie sat between two new faces, cheerily chatting away with them. 

At half past ten, the last resident arrived. Unlike the others, she had received no threatening invitation from Alastor. Rather, she’d been ignored entirely. 

She’d come down for a solitary breakfast, unaware of the communal breakfast event being put on by Charlie and Alastor. She was shocked to see the crowded scene before her lone eye.

“So glad you could eventually join us, Miss Vagatha. Better late than never as they say, no?” Alastor prodded with an underhanded sneer, purposely inciting the moth-demoness.

Vaggie stared daggers at him, a low growl emerging from deep within her throat. Her magenta ribbon turned sharp, its threatening points contrasting against her long silver hair. 

With great effort, she forced the feelings aside and strode over to Charlie, disregarding the crimson menace that still blighted the hotel. 

“Hey hun, what’s all this?” she gestured to Charlie.

“Oh Vaggie! Good morning! Ah - I forgot to tell you. I’m so sorry!” Charlie bit her lip, guilty from her mistake. It had been so emotional between them the past day that it had totally slipped her mind to inform Vaggie of the weekly events she’d planned. “I’m hosting events for the hotel now that we have more guests than just Angel. Today’s Communal Breakfast Day, and tomorrow is Group Therapy Tuesday. Wednesday through Friday, I’m gonna meet with each resident one-on-one to make a game plan for redemption tailored to them personally!” Her voice was lit with excitement. Everything was going so well! 

Watching Vaggie continue to eye the scene around them, Charlie tacked on, “Please, help yourself to the food! Alastor helped me make it this morning, wasn’t that sweet of him?”

Vaggie glanced over the new faces around the dining table suspiciously before heeding her girlfriend’s suggestion. She chose to ignore her last statement, knowing it would only leave her feeling bitter and cause her to carelessly say something foolish.

The silver-haired woman sat down next to Charlie in the recently-emptied seat and began eating. Her ears paid acute attention to the conversations around her, but nothing seemed off.

Vaggie felt her distrust begin to ease. Maybe these demons _were_ here to be redeemed. Bad manners and cursing aside, she hadn’t noticed any unbefitting behavior from any of them. 

The silver-haired demoness began to doubt herself and her so-called realism. It seemed these demons really were trying to turn over a new leaf. Maybe Hell was actually changing like Charlie had hoped. 

But a quick look of fear from one of the new demons told her otherwise. Her suspicions hardened. After breakfast, she’d pursue this demon and get some answers. She wouldn’t have anyone hurt Charlie or make ill of her good-intentions.

When the pesky chihuahua had finally left, Alastor slipped into the seat beside his prey. 

“Is the food to your liking?” he asked rhetorically, smug with the fact that she was eagerly digging in.

“Mhm!” she murmured through stuffed lips, still chewing away.

“Heavens, Al, this food is amazing! You should really open your own restaurant. I bet it’d be really popular!”

“What a delightful idea, Charlie. Perhaps I’ll try that in another decade or two. Why, anything’s on the table with an eternity in Hell!” he chortled. 

“But I have more pressing matters to attend to. Such as collecting payments from my dealings,” the radio accompaniment slipped from his voice, leaving it bare to her ears.

She gulped. “Oh, right.” 

A brief pause. “What is it that you wanted in exchange for finding Vaggie yesterday, Al?” she asked, hesitant to hear his answer.

“Why, I thought you’d never ask!” His tone was over-the-top and lively, ever-exaggerated as usual. His hand beckoned her, palm facing upwards and clawed fingers outstretched. 

“Take my hand, my darling, and find out for yourself.”

She stared at the outstretched hand, dreading what it stood for. 

_This can’t be good. No way, not with that manic look in his eyes._

Still, a deal’s a deal. He had helped her. Now, it was her turn.

She grabbed the hand.

Instantly, she felt herself transported away. It was slightly nauseating, especially after her big breakfast. 

The scene before her faded. She hadn’t even had time to say goodbye to her newly met guests. Still clutching a fork in her hand, she suddenly dropped it to the floor of the new room before her, startled and taking in the new scene before her.

The metal fork rebounded from the polished, lacquered flooring with a loud clang. 

Yellow. It was all she could see. Bright, merry shades of yellow decorated the wide walls and endless floor beneath her. 

She was in a large, open room. Gold columns decorated the walls in elaborate designs. Light peach curtains draped elegantly over the many illuminated windows that were lined between the columns. 

It appeared to be a vacant ballroom. But...why would he have brought her here?

She heard a faint, static-inflicted humming and felt the clothing that covered her begin to morph. Her black slacks gave way to a shimmering, vivid peach skirt that flowed down to her ankles. Her shirt stitched itself to the skirt and flaunted the same bright hue. Her once long white sleeves shrinked into poofy, translucent pearls around each shoulder. 

She felt her hair curl into tight ringlets that barely grazed her shoulders, much like how it had been the last time he’d transformed her appearance.

She looked around the room, then at her form. Finally, her gaze settled on his still-outstretched hand. He was bowing slightly, exhibiting a formal dip from his waist. 

She drank in his new appearance with voracious eyes. He wore a long, wide-flared tailcoat, its silhouette strikingly similar to that of his traditional pinstripe crimson coat except that there were no tears along the ends. It was of a solid color, a soothing, off-white shade of cream with the lightest strawberry tint. His traditionally black bowtie faded to white, as did his slacks. While his appearance had always been handsome before just as it was now, he now also looked uncharacteristically soft and approachable.

“The last time we danced, I could not help but notice your flawless footing. It has been so long since I last had a dance partner whose moves could rival my own.”

He dipped lower before her. His shining ruby eyes rose to meet hers. 

“Miss Charlotte, would you be so kind as to indulge me in a dance or two?”

 _’Well damn. How can I refuse with a display like that?’_ she thought to herself, a sense of euphoria spreading within her. She licked her black lips before extending her hand to meet his, suddenly noticing the long white opera gloves that covered her forearms. 

The quick, classical notes of a waltz reverberated against the tall walls, coming softly at first before slowly ramping up to a loud crescendo. Hints of violins sung highly against the tying notes of their larger, deeper cousins, the cellos. 

Alastor spun her around gracefully the moment her hand settled over his. He dipped her down to the beat of the music. 

She looked up at him, mesmerized.

“Alastor, what is this place?” she asked in a dreamy voice.

He tilted her back up then widely stepped out. They faced each other, their arms lifted and outstretched, fingers meeting in the middle. 

He chuckled softly. All hints of radio and static were gone from his voice. His voice sounded crisp and pleasant against the melody. “This? Palais Sanglant, one of the many properties that I’ve… acquired.”

He pulled her towards her again, his arm suddenly looping tightly against her waist like a noose. His steps accurately and dutily performed the Viennese waltz in time to the music. He kept his eyes focused on her, never once leaving those shining black orbs. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she sighed.

“Then it suits you,” he countered, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

“Al! You can’t go saying things like that!” Her mouth was agape, not believing the words she had just heard.

But his smile only grew. “Oh? And why not, my charming dame?”

She scrunched her face, growing more and more flustered as she kept up with his movements. Dancing with him felt as easy as walking. He led so devoutly, his steps sure and guiding.

“Be - because! It’s not nice to joke at another’s expense.” She huffed the air from her nose, a soft “hmph” emerging. She turned away yet continued the motions flawlessly. This dance had been one of several she’d learned while still living at the palace with her Mom and Dad.

Alastor dipped her low. His fingers cupped her chin and he pivoted her to face him.

“And if I say I’m not joking? That I’m telling the honest truth?” he dared.

He held her like that and waited for her answer, not caring that the music had continued without them.

Her cheeks burned the longer he held her. Not wanting to fall into the trap he’d laid out for her, she changed topics. “Is this really the music you want to dance to? I would’ve taken you for a guy that likes more snappy music.”

Finally, he raised her back to standing. His hands pulled away from her as he held them in the air in mocked surrender.

“You caught me, princess.” His tone was dripping in sarcasm. 

The music stopped, and Charlie witnessed her form change once more. She giggled as she saw a loose, shapeless dress now grace her. Strings of beads fell from it and caught her every movement.

_Oh, Al. Ever dramatic I see._

He snapped his fingers, and a new melody emerged. Charlie listened excitedly, bouncing up and down to the brass instruments weaving in and out in a playful jazz ensemble. 

“Now personally, if you’re looking for good music to dance to, there’s nothing like The Charleston. Just you stand there and watch, Charlie.”

His motions were a blur and indeed snappy. He snapped his left leg forward, it bent at the knee and his shoe behind it in the air. Then he repeated the motion with his leg behind him. She watched alertly as he stepped it down and did the same with his right foot.

Her eyes were fixated on him, eagerly taking in each new movement of this captivating new dance.

She involuntarily curled her lips in a wide smile when he repeated the same snappy leg movement again, only pivoting with each step until he had spun in a full circle.

“Oh, Al! That looks like so much fun! Let me give it a try!” 

A natural dancer, she picked up his moves quickly. Soon they were in sync. They held no regard for the time as it ticked by. Instead, they were solely focused on each other, the music, and their snappy movements.

“You know, back in the time when I was alive, people would dance to this until they couldn’t move anymore!” He laughed between pants. “It was a big contest, to see who was still dancing amongst the multitude of gents and ladies lying on the floor out of breath. The last remaining couple would be crowned the victors. Oh, it lasted hours! All night even!”

Charlie noted the happy look on his face as he reminisced and stored it deep within her mind as a treasured memory. It was so rare to see him like this. His face had relaxed into a natural position, his muscles no longer strained. 

“Oh ya? Let’s go, right now! You and me. I betcha I can outdance you any day of the week!” she goaded.

His brows rose at the challenge.

“Oh?” His words were quiet, but there was a great excitement laced within them. “You think you can best me?”

His eyes narrowed at her. “My dear, you know nothing of what I am capable of.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Nor do you know of my own prowess!”

Oh! The gall! The audacity of this woman! His undead heart was pumping with adrenaline, never expecting this sudden turn of events. 

“Very well. I accept your challenge, Miss Charlotte.” His smile grew wider.

He snapped and his own band of shadow puppets replaced the recorded music. Live jazz filled the open room. 

“Let’s see who can best whom, shall we?” he wagged.

As they danced the hours away, she felt the walls she had put up against his sly person crumbling. A question that had been on her mind since their first day together surfaced. Not holding her tongue, she blankly asked, “Why do you insist on calling me Charlotte? I just go by Charlie.”

He hummed at her question and answered between pants. “A multitude of reasons, my dear. Firstly, I like seeing the red rise from your rosy cheeks when you blush at the mere mention of your given name. It’s adorable,” he crooned.

Her brows furrowed at his answer, not liking it. 

“Secondly, I like the way your voice hitches and rises an octave higher. You’re so enamoring when you’re flustered, darling.”

She was about to interrupt, but then he continued.

“Thirdly, I like the way your name feels on my tongue, like a gentle caress. _Charlotte._ Hmm, I don’t think I could ever grow tired of that moniker. Did you know that it’s French in origin? Much like my own dear mother’s, bless her heart.”

He froze suddenly at the slip of his tongue. Just what had compelled him to mention his mother? 

“Ha! I win! Take that!” she declared loudly.

He continued to stare at her blankly, his mind racing. He was supposed to charm her, to lull her into a false affection. 

So why did he feel like the entranced one instead.

He bowed at her curtly, expertly masking his newfound trepidation. “Indeed, it seems you have won this round.” 

_”-Charlotte,”_ he added with a menacing hiss underneath his breath, inaudible for anyone but him due to his keen, animalistic ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave a comment below if so inclined. I read each comment, even on older chapters~
> 
> _Stay tuned for more..._


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